


Embers and Iron

by MyBlueSkye



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Deviates From Canon, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Sex, F/M, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-01 07:12:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 39
Words: 109,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8614576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyBlueSkye/pseuds/MyBlueSkye
Summary: The Aldmeri Dominion isn’t known for mercy. When they kidnapped Lena, Farkas and Vilkas assumed the worst. They learned to live without her, but her loss broke hearts already damaged by betrayal and abandonment. When Lena returns and embraces her bloodline, she accepts the challenge of stopping Alduin and keeping the world spinning. But at what cost? As Lena grows in her power, she begins to understand that destiny isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, and that sacrifice and love are concepts all too often misunderstood in Skyrim.





	1. Two and One

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and constructive criticism greatly appreciated! And if you leave me a comment and you’re an author, I’ll find your work and do the same for you.

**4E 176, Rain’s Hand**

On the veranda outside Jorrvaskr, a small, dark-haired boy looked up from his book. Someone was calling his name. _Lena_. Vilkas tried to ignore her, as he'd done since the day they met, but it was impossible. He’d seen mud-crabs less tenacious.

  
“Hey, come out with me. There’s a fox outside the gate. Farkas is feeding him snowberries!” Lena ran up the stairs and skidded to a stop in front of Vilkas’s table. She braced against it, trying to catch her breath.

  
“Um, no. If Ice-Brain is letting pests eat from his hand, I think I’ll pass, thanks.”

  
Vilkas turned back to his book. Lena stomped her foot and looked around for help. Kodlak and Vignar were nowhere to be found, and the other Companions whacking away at practice dummies (and each other) didn’t notice the children anyway.

  
She should have sent Farkas. She’d tried, knowing he'd have more success in recruiting his twin. But the fox they’d found outside the city gate wouldn’t come anywhere near her, and Farkas would be sad if it ran away. She hated to see Farkas unhappy. “But he really wants you to see this. You know how he feels about animals.”

  
Vilkas sighed, watching the spring breeze blow the pages of his book. Farkas and Lena were always running off after something stupid or dangerous, and had been since Lena’s parents had dumped her at Jorrvaskr a month ago. Hammerfell still stood against the Aldmeri Dominion, and her parents, former Companions, had joined the fight. Kodlak had insisted she’d be safe with them, and happy, with two built-in playmates.

  
Worst day of his life, Vilkas thought, frowning. He slammed his book shut. “You can tell Farkas he and I need to start training. We’ll never be ready to join the Companions if we don’t.”

  
“We’re only six,” Lena countered, Vilkas’s snub sailing over her head. “I don’t think Vignar’s ready for us to train with them yet. Come on, Adrianne said she wanted to see too…” Lena cajoled, pulling every stop as she bounced up and down on the stone floor, her black curls aloft in the wind.

  
He wanted to go. If the palace steward's cute daughter was going too…but no. Farkas and Lena would eventually leave him out. He weighed the book down with someone’s abandoned tankard and walked down to the training yard. At least his pride would stay intact.

  
Lena frowned, sniffed, and ran back through the village and outside the gates to let Farkas know his brother wouldn’t be coming. He’d be disappointed, but Lena felt sure she’d win Vilkas over eventually. Maybe she’d check out that book he’d been reading. She and Farkas couldn’t read yet, but it was worth a try. And Vilkas could help…

**  
4E 186, Sun’s Height**

Lena’s arrow pierced the elk’s neck and the beast dropped like a stone. She heard a whoop from Farkas, and grinned. Her parents were going to kill her, but damned if she didn't care. One last hunt with her best friends was worth a bit of scolding.

  
“Does your mom really think she can keep you away from us for two years?” Vilkas hefted the elk onto its back and made the necessary cuts for field dressing. “She definitely doesn’t know you at all,” he said, cringing at his own harsh words. “It’s not her fault. I know Soldiers do what they have to do, but-“

  
“No,” Lena said, pulling her arrow free and checking it for nicks, “I get it. She's been gone for ten years, and you're right - she doesn't know me. But she will. If she imagines I’ll go home and marry some healer she’s picked out for me, someone I’ve never met, she’s got another think coming.” Lena blushed, thinking of Belethor. The handsome shopkeeper’s apprentice was the only real point of contention between the trio, and Vilkas and Farkas never missed an opportunity to rub Lena’s face in the fact that her crush didn’t notice her existence. “I’ll finish my studies. That’s a good compromise. But then I’m coming right back here.”

  
Blinking into the rising sun, Farkas looped a rope around the elk’s antlers and tied it to a low branch.  For a moment, he watched the rays sweep across the city to the tundra, and creep up to the edge of the woods. They’d planned a daring pre-dawn sneakout, but as they’d tiptoed through Jorrvaskr in the inky gloom (having stashed their leathers and weapons under the verandah), they found their stealth unnecessary.

  
Every Companion was still abed after celebrating into the wee hours with Lena’s parents. Hammerfell was finally free of Thalmor, every last trace, and Lena was going home. Farkas cleared his throat and swiped at his eyes, taking a seat between Lena and Vilkas. “You’d better. I – um…”

  
Vilkas huffed and rolled his eyes at his soft-hearted twin. “We’ll both miss you,” he said, slinging an arm around Farkas.

  
“Two years!” Lena groaned, and passed around a packet of sweetrolls. “I don’t know if I can go without seeing your grimy faces for two whole years.” She looked from brother to brother with barely unshed tears. “I hope you’re both prepared to write. And tell everyone what I write so no one will forget me. Wait, you can write, can’t you?”

  
“Stop. You're hilarious," Vilkas said, the pastry suddenly dry as sawdust in his mouth. "But...no one will forget you. I know we won't. You have Vignar wrapped around your finger, and Kodlak can’t stop telling everyone he sees how much better you are with a bow than Farkas. Ow!” He flinched as his twin elbowed his ribs, a little harder than necessary. “Ok, you’re better than me, too.”

  
Lena wrapped her arms around Farkas’s broad torso and squeezed him, her smile warm and bittersweet. His body stiffened, and his smile faltered. He was going to miss her, damn it. Maybe she’d forget about Belethor before she returned. Two years was a long time.

  
“You guys are going to carry that elk back to the city, right?” Lena lay back against the soft mossy ground and closed her eyes. “My parents might forgive me for making them late, but I doubt they’ll be ok with riding all the way to Dragonstar in a bloody coach.”

**  
4E 187, Heartfire**

“Vignar, any letters?” Farkas came in from a grueling practice session, sweaty and exhausted, but never failed to check with the old man for the post. For the past eight months, it had been nothing but a source of fear and disappointment. After a hastily-scrawled note assuring the brothers she’d arrived safe in Hammerfell, there’d been no news from Lena.

  
“No, lad,” Vignar shook his head slowly, his eyes downcast. “I’m almost as upset about this as you are, son. I cannot imagine what could be keeping our girl from writing us. I promise you will know immediately, as soon as I have word.”

Farkas slowly nodded, and went back outside with his sword.

**  
4E 191, Sun’s Dusk**

“Lads,” Kodlak began, his voice breaking, “We have had word from Hammerfell.”

  
Farkas and Vilkas felt their hearts leap, and then plummet to their boots. Kodlak and Vignar’s faces were both pale and drawn. This couldn’t be good news. After five years with no word, they’d given up on good news. Especially once they’d learned Hammerfell wasn’t free of the Dominion as everyone thought.

  
“There has been nothing about Lena specifically, but we do know the Dominion has been terrorizing those who speak out against their treaty violations, and we know where Lena’s people stood. Many have been taken from their homes in the dead of night and never heard from again.” Kodlak folded the letter he was reading, stood up, and faced the twins. He cleared his throat and sniffled. “My contact from Dragonstar confirmed Lena’s family vanished four years ago. No one saw anything, so nothing was reported. Given the fighting, it has been difficult to send news. This is all we have to go on. I’m sorry, boys.”

  
Farkas placed a heavy hand on his brother’s shoulder, but Vilkas shook away and stalked out the door. A few moments later, they heard a door slam. Farkas looked at Kodlak and Vignar with hollow eyes. “People grieve in different ways,” Vignar said, “and Vilkas has always found it easier to be angry than to give in to sorrow. Give him some time.”

  
Farkas slowly nodded, and went outside. He grabbed a sword out of the weapons rack, but the practice dummy was too blurry to hit. Maybe Vilkas was right to get mad. Slumping down on a bench, he stared at the outline of the distant mountains. Was Lena was really gone, or still out there, somewhere? Maybe it was wishful thinking, but he could almost feel her presence as the mountains faded slowly into the black, starry night.

**  
4E 201, Heartfire**

Kodlak clapped his hands from his chair before the firepit. “Vilkas! Farkas! There’s a giant outside the gate, close to the farm. I don’t know why he’s ventured so far from the herd, but he’s threatening citizens of the Hold, so go take it down," he ordered, dismissing the breathless city guard with a nod. 

  
“Can Ria come?” Vilkas joked as he strapped on his shin guards. “She killed a bear last week, and hasn’t shut up about it yet. Maybe this will humble her up a bit,” He grinned as he imagined the eager new recruit’s mouth drop at her first up-close view of an actual giant.

  
“Just go,” Kodlak shook his head, amused and a little worried. The twins could generally handle their own, but giants were unpredictable fighters, and even stronger than Farkas. And…he’d never heard of one straying so far from camp before. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what could scare a giant away from its home.

  
As they jogged, clanking with armor and greatsword down the streets of Whiterun, the brothers discussed their strategy, which was minimal, given the lack of weakness apparent in a giant. Basically “hit it until it dies” was all they could come up with. “So, you distract and I attack, and then we’ll switch?” Farkas asked.

  
“It’ll work. We can’t shoot it, but the bastard’s got to fall down eventually,” Vilkas agreed.

  
Outside the gate, they could hear the giant roaring, although… the twins thought his roars seemed much less threatening, and much more threatened. Sure enough, a woman wearing dented Imperial armor was already out at the farm, shooting at the giant. Arrow after arrow, each one hitting its mark with accuracy and speed that had Farkas and Vilkas staring, open-mouthed.

  
They ran toward the giant, and began hacking and slashing wherever they could get a hit while avoiding his deadly club, and it wasn’t long before the behemoth fell with a crash, flattening part of a field of cabbage, but luckily nothing else. The archer fell back, and the brothers moved in and finished him off.

  
Task complete, the brothers walked toward the archer, planning to compliment her skill, maybe ask her for a drink to celebrate. The archer stood where she was, and took her bloody, leather helmet off. Vilkas and Farkas both stared, stunned and speechless for the second time in one afternoon. She was a Redguard, her long hair braided over one shoulder, errant curls springing around her face and blowing in the breeze. Her green eyes widened as she took in the dark-haired, Nord warriors.

  
She ran, dropping her bow, and as she did, Vilkas backed up a few paces, shaking his head in disbelief. Farkas, however, gave a shout and, reaching the woman, lifted her up and twirled her into his arms. Lena had returned to Skyrim.

 


	2. Hot Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins have opposing reactions to Lena's return, and Lena shares her story. Later, the twins and Lena fight a dragon, and Lena discovers who she is.

  
“Kodlak, I mean no disrespect, but how can you take her in with no questions? We know nothing about her allegiances now, and she doesn’t want to talk about what happened over the past fifteen years. Fifteen!” Vilkas paced up and down in front of Kodlak’s table, throwing his hands up as he spoke. “Anything could have changed, she could be…oh, I don’t know, brainwashed or something. What if the rumors are true, and the Dominion’s infiltrating the guilds? Do we want to bring them down on us without considering the implications?”

Vilkas sat down across from the Harbinger, trying to stay calm despite giant birds flapping around in his stomach. He had to see. Had to understand. Had to…look up from his figures. “Kodlak, did you –“

“Lad,” Kodlak said, sighing and closing his ledger, “when Vignar pulled you and your brother out of that cage and decided to raise you, you became family. When Lena’s parents trusted us with the life of their only child, she became family. Have we ever turned our backs on family?"

“But-“

“Your concerns are noted, and we aren’t without resources. Lena stays.”

“But-“

“Keep quiet about…certain details.” Kodlak nodded, continuing over Vilkas’s muttered objections. “The Circle’s business is our own. But make no mistake: Lena stays.”

Vilkas knew a dismissal when he heard one. He stood, grunting as his head smacked against the chandelier. Kodlak must have lowered it again.

The pit in his stomach deepened and he meandered down the hall, ending up, as he always did when something bothered him, in his brother’s room. He sighed. Farkas lay on his fur-covered bed, staring up at the ceiling. _How can he be so calm?_

“Lena’s with Ria, bathing and getting some new clothes. That Imperial armor’s seen better days.” Farkas had changed out of his own armor and into a cream-colored shirt and leather leggings. Comfortable, he pushed up on one elbow and frowned. “What’s going on, Vilkas? We thought she was dead. Why are you not happy to see her?”

Vilkas, attired similarly to his brother but still wearing boots, sat down heavily, cross-legged on the floor, and sank his face into his hands. “Of course I’m glad she’s alive. But where’s she been all this time? And why wouldn’t she tell us?”

Farkas lay back down, hands folded behind his head. “She may have been somewhere awful. Probably was. I don’t know anything else that would keep her away so long with no word. Think about it, brother: how much do you like to talk about what happened to us? And that was years ago. I don’t know when she’ll be ready, but she’s not going to talk if she thinks we don’t trust her.”

“Well, as to that,” Vilkas said, and huffed. He tilted his head back, knocking it softly against the wall. “Should we trust her? Do we really even know her anymore?“

“I heard what you said to Kodlak. Your voice travels. Do you really think she’s some Dominion spy?”

“That’s the thing. We don’t know. People leave all the time, Farkas. They say they’re coming back, and most of the time, they don’t. And even when they do, they don’t come back the same person.”

“But if she didn’t choose -”

“It doesn’t matter. What about our parents? I doubt our mother, whoever she was, gave birth to us thinking we’d be a good trade,” Vilkas said, cutting his eyes over to his brother. “So how did we end up in with that necromancer, huh? No. People change, and even if it’s not Lena’s fault, what if she’s not…our Lena anymore?”

 _Enough_. Taking a deep breath and hauling himself to his feet, Vilkas walked to the door. The frame creaked as he leaned against it, closing his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t feel…she smiled at me. After all those years, imagining her dead, imprisoned…turned. She strolled back in and smiled.” He glanced back at his brother and hit the door jamb with the side of his fist, his silvery-blue eyes glistening. “It never stopped hurting. Not for a minute. I don’t want either of us to feel that again. Ever.”

Farkas was still for a moment, and then nodded.

Vilkas left his brother and went back to speak with Kodlak. Somehow, he had to see reason. Through the door, he heard Lena’s voice, and rocked back with a jolt to realize she was inside. _It never stopped hurting_. The door opened, and Vilkas stared, unable to speak.

Kodlak grunted and rolled his eyes under his bushy brows. “Vilkas, make yourself useful. Take Lena out to the yard and see what she remembers. See if her aim is still better than your brother’s.” He stared at Vilkas, narrowing his eyes as he clapped Lena’s shoulder with one bony hand. “Maybe you can knock some sense into him, eh?”

Outside under the stars, the practice dummies awaited, but Vilkas threw a padded leather tunic over his head and stalked to the weapons rack. He grabbed his sword.

Lena buckled her new leather armor on with nimble fingers despite the tension building in her gut. “I thought we were practicing archery.”

Vilkas said nothing, but continued down to the yard.

Lena shrugged. She picked up a steel sword, and ran down the steps just as Vilkas swung.

“Where were you?”

Lena parried and twisted out of the sword’s arc. “I told you, I’m not ready to talk-“

Vilkas charged, his sword glinting in the moonlight.

Shock giving way to anger, Lena rolled under his swing and crouched, using her own sword to knock Vilkas’s feet out from under him. Kicking his weapon out of reach and pinning his arms with her knees, Lena hissed. “What is wrong with you? You’re my friend. Sweet Talos, you were my brother. I’m alive. I’m back…I thought that would make you happy.”

Vilkas looked up, breathless. “You left us, remember?”

“How can you-?” Lena got to her feet and stared down at him. “Just...” Speechless and fighting back tears, she turned slowly, and stiffened, noticing Farkas at the edge of the veranda. She wiped her eyes and stalked past, heading for the door.

Farkas looked at his brother, stunned and still on the ground. He sighed, whispered something to the woman standing next to him, and followed Lena inside.

Vilkas lay and stared, unseeing, at the stars until an arm thrust over his chest. He blinked, and looked aside to see a curtain of red hair blowing in the wind. Aela. Vilkas grabbed her arm and let Aela pull him up, waiting for the scolding he knew was coming. But it didn’t.

“Farkas told me who she is. I’m surprised that this…” she motioned with her open hand, “is your response, but I share your concern, given the secrets we keep. You’re right. We don’t know where she’s been, what training or indoctrination she’s received. She needs to be watched,” Aela said with a sad smile. “But you could be less of an ass, you know. As usual.”

Vilkas nodded, feeling somewhat vindicated. Aela was right. He would watch her, and, if she proved trustworthy, he would apologize and welcome her with open arms. If not, well…at least he wouldn’t get hurt again, and maybe no one else would, either.

 

* * *

 

As Farkas and Lena walked into Jorrvaskr, Ria, Njada, Athis, and Torvar quickly moved away from the windows, acting overly casual and trying to pretend they hadn’t just watched Lena knock Vilkas on his ass. Farkas cleared his throat. “I’ll show you where you’ll sleep for now,” he said, and steered Lena around the table and firepit, toward the stairs.

“Trainees sleep in these rooms,” he gestured toward a large dorm at the foot of the stairs sparsely furnished with beds, dressers, and chests. “Just pick a bed and fall into it when you’re tired.”

Lena remembered she was still wearing her armor; she quickly unbuckled it and threw it on a vacant bed, her borrowed berry-red tunic and cotton leggings more comfortable than anything she’d worn in years.

Lena’s backpack was outside the door. Farkas picked it up for her, and tossed it on the bed with her armor. “For now, want to have some privacy, and maybe a drink?” Lena nodded, and Farkas guided her down the hall. The ancient, arched hallway was just as she remembered, from cheerful red rugs on the stone floors to blue pottery and iron shields covering the walls. Candles in sconces and chandeliers lit the way, and finally Farkas stopped, signaling which room was his.

Farkas pulled the door shut and leaned against it. “Vilkas-“

“Can we just table that topic for now? There’s nothing – Vilkas tried to hit me out there. With a real sword. I don’t…” Lena shook her head and backed up a pace. “Let’s pretend nothing’s wrong, just for tonight, okay?” A relieved sigh escaped her lips at Farkas’s reluctant nod, and Lena looked around the room, smirking. “You have a bar. In your room.” She thought Farkas’s room was comfortable, and surprisingly clean, compared to how messy his spaces had been when he was a kid.

“Yeah. That way, people have a place to hang out behind closed doors. Sometimes we need a place to talk, away from the whelps- ah, trainees, I mean.” Farkas took down two bottles of mead, handing one over with a sad smile. “He wouldn’t have hurt you. I know it.”

“And a lute? Do you play?” Lena asked in overly-bright tones, ignoring Farkas’s assurances. She sat down on his bed. His extremely small bed, she noted, pulling the fur blanket over her legs.

“I do. Surprised?” Farkas sighed and settled into a wooden chair next to the bed, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle. Vilkas had come around once before, and would do so again, eventually. Hopefully without doing something he couldn’t take back in the meantime. He wouldn’t have hurt Lena. _Would he_?

“Heart of a bard, hm? If only you’d grown up in Solitude,” Lena mused, and sipped from her bottle.

They drank in silence for a time, and Lena studied Farkas, who stared at his bottle in between semi-furtive glances in her direction. His hair was longer and darker, and there were scars covering his arms and neck. She was surprised how muscular he was; even out of his armor, the man was at least twice as broad as the boy she remembered. His face was still a little grimy. Why men in Skyrim didn’t understand bathing, she would never know. “What’s with the warpaint?” She motioned around her eyes with two fingers, peering at the gray smudged circles Farkas wore like a mask.

“Helps me blend into the shadows until I’m ready to strike. Keeps the sun out of my eyes too, so it was handy this afternoon, with that giant,” Farkas explained, his cheeks flushing under the feathered edges of the paint. “I was a little distracted this evening, forgot to wash it off. Don’t usually sleep with it on.”

“You look like a dirty raccoon,” Lena laughed, and almost spilled her bottle.

“Careful,” Farkas leaned toward her in case he had to catch it. “Haven’t had mead in a while, huh? You forget how strong it is.”

“Farkas, I… That’s the closest you’ve come all day to asking where I’ve been. No, I haven’t had mead in years. I haven’t had much of…anything in years.” Lena paused and closed her eyes, scrunching the blanket with her fist. “I didn’t want to talk about what happened. Still don’t. I don’t know what you’ll think, how you’ll react. I…you deserve to know, but I don’t want to say it twice. And I need sleep, now. But I’ll go see Kodlak in the morning. Can…can you stay with me?”

Farkas opened his mouth, and when nothing came out, he shut it again. Settling for nodding, he put down his bottle, and led Lena out the door, back down to the whelps’ dorm.

 

* * *

_  
His cage was cold. Dark, the tiniest pinhole of light shining down from the ceiling high above. Wet, where he’d not made his privy bucket in time. And smelly. Vilkas could deal with all that, though. He sat with his knobby knees pulled up to his chest and huffed hot breath into his hands, trying to warm up. What he couldn’t handle was the fear._

_Robes swished from the main cavern, just around the corner from their small chamber. Boots scraped and shuffled on the cave’s stone floor. Glass clinked. Something moaned and cried. And every once in a while, a chuckle drifted out of the mage’s laboratory, a cold laugh that rendered Vilkas’s prison cozy by comparison._

_“Vilkas.”_

_He looked to his right. Farkas, his blue eyes crinkling above his smile. “Farkas, that you? Why are you smiling, brother?” Vilkas gasped, alarmed at the high pitch of his voice. He held up his hands in front of his face. Tiny. Like a baby. Why am I a blasted milk-drinking toddler, and Farkas…_

_“Why wouldn’t I smile?” Farkas’s deep voice rumbled from the next cage. “Things are good.”_

_“We’re in a cage, in case you haven’t noticed. And I’m…well, I can’t help get us out this time.”_

_“No need to worry. Help is on the way,” Farkas said, and nodded to the doorway where a fuzzy globe of light shone in the distance, bobbing closer as boots shuffled in the dark corridor._

_Vilkas scooted back against the stone wall, his heart racing. Was the necromancer coming? What did he want with them? A second later, the bobbing light threw the room into shadow. Vilkas peered into the glare, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light. He scrambled to his feet._

_Lena’s green eyes glowed over the candlelight. She stared at Farkas. “Are you ready?”_

_“Born ready,” Farkas said, towering over Vilkas as he walked to the iron door._

_Lena smiled and unlocked it, slipping her key into the pocket of her robes._

_Farkas waved at Vilkas and followed Lena back down the hallway._

_“No, don’t go that way,” Vilkas said in a panicked whisper. “He’s still out there.”_

_But Farkas and Lena walked on._

_Vilkas’s hands clenched around the bars of his cage, and he closed his eyes, squeezing the lids shut._

_The mage’s robes swished, and a low chuckle sounded from the darkness. Vilkas felt a sliver of cold jab through his gut. What was happening? He could only wait, powerless to stop what he knew was coming. His brother screamed, an agonizing wail that slowly...too slowly...tapered to a whimper._

_And then silence._

_“Farkas,” Vilkas whispered, and backed away from the door. A gust of air extinguished the candlelight and Vilkas’s cage plunged into darkness once more. “Farkas! Farkas!”_

  
Vilkas sat straight up in his bed, the mattress and sheet soaked around his body. He brushed his sweaty hair back from his forehead and swallowed, barely keeping nausea at bay. _Gods_. A creak sounded from the darkness. The bedroom door opened, and he squinted and shielded his eyes as torchlight poured in.

Farkas stuck his head around the door. “You ok?”

Vilkas nodded and took a deep breath. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

“You yelled,” Farkas said. “Bad dream?”

“Shit,” Vilkas cursed, and sighed. “Was I that loud?”

“No,” Farkas admitted. “But I’m on a pallet between our rooms. You’re not the only one having bad dreams tonight. Lena woke up the rest of the whelps, screaming and thrashing in her sleep. She’s in my bed, now.”

Vilkas nodded again, and cringed. “Get some sleep, brother."

 

* * *

  
  
“Why would the Alik’r do the Dominion’s bidding? Why turn you over to the Dominion at all? They’re Redguards. So are you. Why-“ Kodlak pressed one hand to his brow and poured a glass of watered wine with the other, passing the bottle to Vignar. The Harbinger’s quarters were crowded. Lena and Farkas had knocked on the door an hour earlier. They'd interrupted the old men’s daily breakfast and planning session, but Kodlak had gladly bid them enter, eager to hear Lena’s story. But her tale had done nothing good for their appetites. Plates of cold eggs and sweetrolls lay barely touched on the corner table.

“I’ve asked that same question for years. Money, is all I can think of. That, or duress. In any case, it wasn’t Dominion justiciars who came for me in Dragonstar. It was someone with my own face.” Lena sat on the edge of Kodlak’s bed, shivering as she remembered that night, so many years ago. Her captor’s eyes glaring above his dark cowl, the thin beam of moonlight glinting off his scimitar.

Kodlak, Vignar, and Farkas stared at Lena, stunned by her admissions, by the things she'd done to stay alive during years of imprisonment. Cheering the Dominion on to other Redguards, training kidnapped Redguard children to appreciate the Dominion rather than fight back. Looking the other way while the justiciars 'persuaded' those who'd not taken Lena's way out. She’d glossed over a few points, like her parents’ murders at the hands of justiciars, and the Companions didn’t press. Who wanted to relive that?

"I feel like a traitor," she'd said, covering her face with splayed fingers. "I didn't kill anyone. I tried to keep as many people alive as I could. Live to fight another day, right? But at the end of every day, I felt filthy. The Alik'r came for me, true, but how can I judge them, having done what I did? I can't." 

Farkas clenched his fists by his sides. He cleared his throat, and when Lena looked up, the emptiness in her eyes rocked him. She looked like a dog anticipating the back of its owner's hand. He understood her shame. But if she thought he'd rather her be dead than do whatever she had to do to stay alive, she was dead wrong.

Similar accounts had floated around Skyrim for years. Kodlak heard the tales - victims of the Dominion’s attempt to sow discord inside the Empire they’d failed to fully conquer. And across Hammerfell, the source of a truly humiliating defeat. Maybe it was wishful thinking on his part, and Vignar’s, but neither man doubted Lena. They’d known her, and her parents, far too long for that. But who knew what the Dominion was truly capable of? It wouldn't hurt to keep an extra eye open, Kodlak thought, his gut twisting more than a little. 

Farkas was the first to break the silence. He leaned forward on Kodlak’s nightstand. “So Imperial patrols caught the justiciars moving you…”

“Hm,” Lena continued, taking a sip of wine and clearing her throat. “They claimed I was a Stormcloak spy they’d caught, and were graciously handing me over to authorities. It was an easy sell, my father being a Windhelm Nord. Imperials won’t do anything about treaty violations, but the Dominion still doesn’t want to admit to them. So, they took me to Helgen, and-“

“Why? Why Helgen?” Vignar interruped. “Yes, it’s Legion-occupied, but…”

“It didn’t mean anything to me either, until we got close. The soldiers put me in a wagon with Ulfric Stormcloak. I wasn’t scared – well, any more scared than I’d been for the past fifteen years – until I saw him. I knew where I was headed, then,” she said, staring at the floor.

Lena jumped at a creaking noise. Farkas had moved to sit on the bed beside her. She smiled and bumped his shoulder with hers. “The Legion commander showed up. General Tullius. He made this big deal about getting rid of the Stormcloaks and their agents in one fell swoop.”

Kodlak turned to Vignar. “You heard anything about Ulfric being executed? I know your family…”

“Not a thing,” the older man said, shaking his head. “As far as they’re aware, he’s safe in Eastmarch, but if it just happened yesterday…”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about anything just now,” Lena said. “Though, if he died in Helgen, I can promise you it wasn’t by the headsman’s axe. None of you have seen anything strange flying overhead lately, have you?”

Meeting nothing but blank stares, Lena continued. “There’s no easy way to say this. A dragon attacked Helgen. Interrupted the execution. That’s why I’m here, instead of in pieces down in Falkreath.”

All three men got to their feet, making Lena jump again, spilling her drink this time. Farkas knelt and mopped up splashes of wine with a handkerchief from his pocket.

Vignar and Kodlak shared a tense look. Kodlak turned back toward Lena, his face grave. “This isn’t something to joke about.”

“I know,” Lena said. “I wouldn’t.”

“What,” Farkas began, and cleared his throat. “What did it do?”

“Do? What do you think it did?” Lena muffled a hysterical giggle, her hand over her mouth. “It breathed fire and tried to kill everyone. Toppled buildings. Blew people into the sky. Burned…” Unshed tears choked her words, and Farkas, kneeling where he’d been cleaning the spill, took Lena’s hand. He pulled back, still holding the mead-soaked cloth.

Lena smiled softly at Farkas’s blush. “I escaped with an Imperial soldier. Hadvar. He … I wasn't even on the execution list, you know? He wanted to let me go. Said a justiciar’s word isn’t the same as a trial. But his Captain told him...she gave him an order, and that was that. After the dragon attacked, he went out of his way to help me escape. He helped me find armor, and even let me rest with his family in Riverwood. I suppose I should thank that giant black monster if I ever see him again.” Lena paused and looked away. “And…”

“Go on,” Kodlak whispered, leaning forward. He flinched a little and put a hand to his back, massaging away a sudden pain. This might explain why the giant ran from its herd yesterday. If the dragon had flown that way…

“He asked me to come here and warn the Jarl. Beg him for aid. Send troops, supplies, to Riverwood, in case it came that way. And I was going to, but it’s…Whiterun. You. I was on my way to Dragonsreach, but first, I had to come here. And now that I’m here, I’m… I’m safe.” Lena looked around with wide, scared eyes. “I don’t… they were going to cut off my head, and I had done nothing wrong, not to anyone in Skyrim anyway. I don’t want to go to Dragonsreach. What if they send me back?”

Kodlak took Lena’s hand in his. “You have been through much already, and have come through it stronger than you know. And if you want to be a Companion, you will need to make hard decisions, keep fighting, and hone that strength. But you will never be alone again, and,” Lena looked up at Kodlak to see a wild, steely gleam in his eyes, “they will imprison you over all our dead bodies, I promise you that. Farkas, you will accompany Lena to Dragonsreach?”

“Of course,” he said, standing and helping Lena to her feet. “You’ll come with me, won’t you? I’m not a great talker, but I’m good at standing behind you and being intimidating, if that’ll help.

Vignar snorted. “Aint’t that the truth. Send Vilkas, too.”

Lena frowned. “But Vilkas –“

“Can’t get around you being back, and you know it, girl,” Vignar said, slowly standing up and limping over to Lena. He tipped her face up to look him in the eye. “You remember when you first came? It took him months to warm to you. And then you left. Yes, I know it wasn’t your fault. And Vilkas does too, in his heart. But his head can’t always wrap itself around what his heart knows to be true. It’ll take time, and you have to decide if you’re willing to wait.”

Lena sighed with a frown, but nodded.

“If it’s any consolation,” Kodlak said, chuckling as he led her to the door, “once he does figure out what a mess he’s made, his groveling should be…quite entertaining.”

* * *

  
  
“Farkas,” Lena said, breathing hard, “any idea why we’re at a burned-out watchtower waiting to fight a damn dragon?” She looked up into the skies at the snowy mountains bordering the Hold, and had to fight to keep her breakfast from coming up.

Farkas nodded. “Well, Irileth-“  
  
“I know who told us to come, but why are _we_ here?” Old habits took over and Lena glanced behind Farkas at Vilkas’s barely concealed grin. She turned around before her own grin touched her lips. Since childhood, Farkas’d had a tendency to take questions literally, with amusing results. “I saw the giant flying lizard at Helgen, but I don’t have any insight on how to kill it. You might have been just a touch too intimidating, big guy. Just a warning, I’m going to use magic on this bastard if he ever shows up.” Lena opened her left hand, and fire sputtered and flickered as she readied her spell.

“Sorry,” Farkas said sheepishly, backing off toward his brother. He trusted Lena and believed her story, but he wasn’t ready to deal with magic just yet. “But if it helps, I don’t think anyone knows how to kill a dragon.”

Lena looked at Farkas sideways. “That doesn’t make me feel better – oh gods, here it comes.” Lena heard a roar from north of Whiterun as a gray dragon flew over the small group of soldiers, spraying fire. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, and joined the fight.

 

* * *

  
  
Vilkas walked up to the dragon’s smoking corpse and kicked it for good measure before sheathing his sword. He turned back just as Farkas and Lena ran over, covering their noses against the smell. Lena’s flames had cooked a good portion of it, and Vilkas wasn’t surprised that cooked dragon scales weren’t at all appetizing.

“Was that the same dragon you saw at Helgen?” Farkas stared at the beast. It dwarfed mammoths. Even giants. And he’d thought Lena’s magic would be the strangest thing he’d see today.

“No,” Lena said, shaking her head. “That one-“

The words died in her throat. She looked down. Why was the ground shaking?  

“The dragon,” Vilkas called, backing up and pulling his sword again. “It’s moving. I thought it was dead!”

The dragon was indeed moving, but it didn’t seem to be rising. Instead, its body shook, and seemed to be… “It’s catching fire,” Lena heard one of the soldiers say, and then she heard no more.

A pale, misty fire emanated from the dragon. Its flesh burned to ash, filling the air around them with a sticky, sulfurous odor and sparking embers that floated up on the breeze. When only its bones remained, the iridescent flames rose and surrounded Lena before pouring into her chest, knocking her flat on her back.

“Did you see that?”

“How did she-“

“…Dovahkiin. That monster said ‘Dovahkiin,’ just before it died. Does this mean…”

Lena barely heard the mutterings of the soldiers or their pounding footsteps as they moved to surround her. Farkas and Vilkas crouched over her body, their faces blurry and shadowed. She stared at the sun but saw nothing but a long, gold glare, trapped in a whirl of fire and mist and a strange, keening wail that seemed to resonate behind her eyes. Her heart raced, and her muscles twitched. She felt alive, and…furious. She wanted to fight. To scream, to rage at the fire searing through her blood and bones, setting her body alight. She wanted to...fly. But she couldn’t move, and gasped for air as her body lay still.

Farkas leaned over and grabbed Lena’s forearm, intending to gently shake her out of her stupor and help her to her feet.

Her eyes narrowed, Lena snarled. And then she did scream. Something like a scream. Or a roar, one that knocked Farkas down, tumbling him head over feet.

Vilkas ran to his twin, supporting him as he sat up, and then stalked over to Lena. He yanked her up by her knife belt and shook her like a rag doll. _This was no dream._ “Whatever’s going on with you, I don’t know and just now, I don’t care. But know this: I will not let you hurt my brother again. Do you understand me?”

Lena’s throat burned. She nodded and turned away, tears exposing tracks of clean skin down her dirty cheeks.

Farkas recovered and approached her again, swatting Vilkas’s arms away. “Ah…Lena? We need to get back to Dragonsreach…and then back to Kodlak.” He cautiously stepped toward Lena, placing his hand gently on her heaving back. “Can you hear me?”

She bent over, hands on her knees, and took several deep breaths. “Yes,” she rasped. “Gods, Farkas. I’m sorry."

He shrugged. “I’ve had worse.” After he was positive she was herself again, and unhurt, Farkas ran toward the gate, Vilkas close behind. Lena followed in their shadow.

He was right, she thought. They needed to get back. But what just happened, with that fire and mist? And what were those soldiers saying about her? And what the hell was a dovah –

“DOVAHKIIN!!!!” A voice thundered –it sounded like – from the clouds, and brought Lena to her knees. That strange word meant little to her. Perhaps a tiny spark of a memory lived somewhere in her mind, a remnant of a book she’d read once, but nothing significant. Even Farkas and Vilkas were unsure what the fuss was all about. But for Jarl Balgruuf and Kodlak, legends were coming to life. And as they explained when they met back at Dragonsreach who they believed she was, Lena wished for nothing more than to sink into the ground.

Dragonborn, descendant of dragons. Dragon killer. Soul eater. Would anyone in Skyrim trust her now that she had such powers? The Jarl offered her a position on his council, and his assistance in learning what it meant to be Dovahkiin, and Lena appreciated the gesture. But no Nord fully trusted anyone with magic. Any brand of magic.

Even when Farkas offered to let her have his room again so she could rest without the trainees whispering around her (and without her nightmares waking everyone again), Lena wondered if he feared her, too. Did he agree with Vilkas? She did knock him down, after all. Or Shout him down, as Balgruuf clarified. And when she, awake long into the night, saw the door open a crack, she wondered whether Farkas checked on her to make sure she was okay…or to confirm she was still where he could watch her.

 


	3. The Mountain is Calling, and I Must Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Lena recuperates from her ordeal, she and Farkas trek up the mountain to High Hrothgar.

Lena tiptoed up the stairs to the great room, trying to minimize the clinking sounds from her loaded pack. Leaving unnoticed would be ideal. Yesterday's revelations had Jorrvaskr in a furor, and she didn’t want any more attention focused on her than need be.

  
Among the Companions, nearly half thought it was a fantastic thing that the dragonborn lived among them. She’d flinched at their claps on her shoulder as she’d slunk home from Dragonsreach, their hands heavy and welcoming. She hadn’t expected it. The other half…well, suspicious didn’t come close to describing their attitude. That, she’d expected. _Nords_. It was their legend she’d fallen ass-first into, wasn’t it?

  
And the worst of it – Lena wasn’t sure which half included her friends. Farkas hadn’t spoken at all during their meeting with the jarl, choosing instead to stand silent and imposing behind her as she told her tale, nodding in corroboration. And they'd barely spoken since. She shivered. Roaring at Farkas after that dragon’s soul had set her body on fire was, admittedly, an unfortunate reaction. A dragon’s soul. _Farkas_. Maybe he’d decided Vilkas had the right idea after all.

  
Her hand was on the door when a creak and a loud harrumph sounded from the shadows.

  
“What do you think you’re doing, girl?”

  
“What do _you_ think I’m doing, old man?” She turned and huffed a little, hoisting her pack further onto her shoulders, her breath choppy. Vignar might be in the good half, but damned if he’d stop her finding out who in Oblivion she was. Now that she was…different. “I’m going up that mountain.”

  
Vignar chuckled and shook his head. “No.”

  
That one, small syllable opened the floodgates, allowing years of pent-up rage to spill free. “I’ve been one step from death for the past fifteen years. Past two days, I’ve been so close I could smell it. You know what it smells like?” Two whelps stared across the firepit as her voice rose. _They may as well hear it from me_. “It smells like fire. And sulfur. And burning flesh and metal. And I just found out – you _told_ me! You and the jarl and Kodlak – you’ve told me I’m not even me anymore. Just some freakish dragon/woman…thing. I’m part of it. Death, I mean. What was that bard singing– the death that comes on black wings? I’m part of that. How can I _not_ go when there are people up there who can tell me who I am? How can I sit here when…” She blinked, and tears ran down her cheeks. “Maybe they’ll say it’s a mistake. That I’m not…what you say I am. Maybe…”

  
Vignar’s chair by the firepit creaked again as he slowly raised himself up and limped over. He made a soft clucking sound and cradled her shoulders with his bony hands. Lena could smell the tobacco on his breath. She closed her eyes to blink more tears away and felt no more than six years old. “No, you don’t have to go. At least, not now. How long has it been since you slept a full night? Weeks, unless I miss my guess,” he said, turning her on the spot to look at the glass on the west wall. “As for who you are, look at yourself. What do you see?”

  
Lena scowled, but reluctantly lifted her eyes to the glass, flicking them nonchalantly over her reflection. So, she’d lost weight. _It happens_. Her cheekbones stuck out from her face like mutant mud crab claws. _Big deal_. Her skin, normally the color of creamy coffee, was a pale sallow. Purple shadows ringed her eyes, like Farkas’s smudgy warpaint. _Who needs sleep_? She tried to hold back the yawn building in the back of her throat. _Oh, I’m so tired_.

  
Vignar nodded, and hummed as a huge yawn almost split her jaw in two. “I’m betting you don’t see what I see. You have your father’s green eyes, your mother’s springy curls. Definitely your mother’s smile. If there’s anything of a dragon there, it’s your tenacity and quick temper. Although your Ma and Pa could claim that as well,” he said, chuckling at the memory of the two warriors he’d trained, long before he’d trained their daughter. “You haven’t changed a bit, but you need food and sleep. And peace, girl. I imagine it’s been more than just a few weeks since you’ve seen any of that.”

  
Lena caught a glimpse of movement in the glass and looked over her shoulder. Vilkas and Farkas opened the door and walked inside. Farkas stopped and frowned, staring at her pack. Vilkas continued on downstairs, his eyes looking everywhere but at her. She sighed. _Please let it be a mistake. The Greybeards could tell me_ …

  
“What’s with the pack? Where-“ His jaw clenched, and he swore. “Please wait to go up that mountain. You’ve nearly died twice, by my calculations, in as many days. You haven’t slept in I don’t know how long. I hate to challenge you because I know how you love challenges, but you’ll never make it in the state you’re in. And anyway, damned if you’re going to go alone.”

  
Lena scowled up at him and over at Vignar, who stared at Farkas with barely concealed mirth. It was a pretty long monologue, for Farkas. “But the dragon, the one at Helgen. It’s still out there, and there may be more. And if-“

  
“One exhausted woman can't do a damn thing about that dragon. It’s out there doing its own thing, and nothing the Greybeards say is going to change that," Farkas said, lacing his fingers together in front of his chest. “Please.”

  
Lena opened her mouth, ready to protest, but Farkas’s last ‘please’ took the fight out of her. She nodded, feeling more than a little lightheaded as her pack started to list to the left. They were both right. Damn them to Oblivion. “Ok,” she said, shrugging off her pack and handing it to Farkas amid another jaw-cracking yawn. “You win. On two conditions: one, as soon as I get some sleep, we train together. Every day,” she said, wagging her finger at his frown. “I’m not delicate. Just tired. And I can’t afford to get out of practice.”

  
He hesitated, but nodded. “What else?”

  
Just then, Lena did stumble, her exhaustion pulling no more punches now that she’d all but admitted it. “Can I keep sleeping in your bed, then? Starting now?”

 

* * *

  
The wooden doors slammed shut behind them and they were alone, staring at each other through whirling snow. “Well,” Lena said, hoisting her pack and kicking a snow drift at her feet, “that wasn’t helpful.”

  
“Really?” Farkas looked back toward the monastery. Meeting the Greybeards had made him feel strange. Their weird, rumbly way of speaking – even Master Arngeir, the only one who spoke ‘real’ words, had him on edge. He’d heard stories about the Greybeards since childhood, of course, the monks who studied the Voice. Every kid had. But to most Farkas’s age and younger, they’d seemed more like campfire tales or legends than anything real. But what he’d seen them do sure was real. “They seemed to have a lot to say. And they did teach you two Shouts.” The word felt funny on Farkas’s tongue. Two weeks ago, a shout was simply something you threw out after a good fight. Or a good night. But never a weapon.

  
“I know,” Lena said, trudging to the top of the seven-thousand steps and looking over the vast, snowy landscape below. It was too high up to see, but she knew farmhouses dotted the land, their glowing windows tempting to those who called them home. For a moment, she envied the peace she imagined settling around their homes like a warm cloak.

  
Then she remembered where she was. There was no peace in Skyrim. Perhaps there was no peace anywhere. “It’s just…I’d hoped they’d have more to say about…about why this is happening to me. What I have to do. I don’t really want to meditate on the Voice and prepare for a test. What test? Why is a test more important than figuring out what that dragon’s going to do? If I can help people, why not teach me how?”

  
Farkas shook his head and shrugged, taking off down the stairs. “I’ve never been one for test-taking, so no idea. But it’s probably a good idea not to worry. Take things one day at a time,” he called, looking back at Lena and trying to hide his grin.

  
“What? What are you laughing at?” Lena rolled her eyes and groaned. “It’s my face, isn’t it? Still looks like a torchbug’s ass. I’d thought when the Greybeards said nothing about it… Damn that Njada. It had to be her. Unless you…”

  
“They were so in awe of your Shouts, you could have been glowing head to toe and they wouldn’t have noticed,” he said, turning and watching her, her face a beacon at the apex of the steps. “Putting nirnroot in your face cream is a pretty tame trick, after all. Especially for Njada. It could have been much worse. And at least I don’t have to worry about losing you in this snow.”

  
She thought about throwing a snowball at him, but nixed it. Too close to the edge of the steps. Skipping down the first flight of stairs, she caught up. “I might have been on the receiving end of another trick, now I think about it. I went for a drink with Torvar the other night while you and Vilkas were out on a job.”

  
“Oh? What about that was a trick? Other than Torvar somehow conning you into having a drink with him in the first place,” Farkas chuffed, clenching his gloved hand around the hilt of his sword. “He’s not the best company, even when he’s sober.”

  
“He wanted to know what it was like growing up in Jorrvaskr, with you and Vilkas. If there were any secret passages we found, that sort of thing. And he said he wasn’t surprised I hadn’t been sleeping, with all the animal noises day and night. I assumed he was playing a prank, trying to get me to look for things that aren’t there. Unless…”

  
Farkas took a sip from a fur-lined waterskin and passed it to Lena. “What?”

  
“You haven’t been trying to smuggle kittens and puppies in, like when we were kids, have you? Remember that one fox? You fed it snowberries and it followed us home,” Lena said, laughing. She took a drink. “Kodlak wasn’t happy.”

  
“No.” Farkas laughed, his deep voice echoing off the mountainside. “Vilkas thought it was funny, though. That was the first day he smiled since you’d come to live at Jorrvaskr, you know. It only took a fox vomiting snowberries on Kodlak’s boots to break the ice.”

  
“I don’t know what it’s going to take this time. Especially with all the magic. And now this. Gods, he’s never going to trust me again.”

  
“Give him time,” Farkas said, looping the strap of the waterskin back on his belt. “I know you’re sick of hearing that, but Vilkas didn’t take your leaving well. He didn’t speak to anyone for a week.” Farkas stooped to pet a goat that had somehow wandered up the steps, and gave Lena a pointed look. “He doesn’t take anyone’s leaving well. You know why.”

  
Lena stared down at Farkas, her anger melting into sadness. “You think you can bring up the necromancer thing and I’ll soften up? Forget the way he’s treated me? Again?”

  
Farkas said nothing, just stared at the steps. The first of the mountain’s wayshrines came into view. They’d read them on the way up, their legend – history, not legend but history – dampening both their spirits. The ancient stones set out a grim tableau of dragons and death and destruction, but gave no solution. At least none that Farkas could see.

  
“He attacked me with a real sword, Farkas. Not a practice one,” she said, fighting back tears. “And you didn’t see his face after I…Shouted at you. I think he would have-“

  
“But he didn’t. And he doesn’t want to. Not really. But just so you know,” Farkas said, pulling her shoulders around so she faced him, “if he tries, I won’t let him. But he won’t.”

  
“Well, just so happens you’re right,” Lena said, sniffing and wiping a tear off her cheek. “You know as soon as he apologizes, I’ll forgive and forget. But it hurts, Farkas.”

  
“It doesn’t help that you were with Thalmor for the past fifteen years, even against your will. If they trained you…in his mind, who knows what else they did?” Farkas looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He’d be lying if he said the thought hadn’t crossed his own mind. But damned if he’d tell her that. If there really was something…wrong, well, he’d cross that bridge later.

  
Lena sighed again. “He has a point. I just…this is the second time I’ve had to prove myself to Vilkas, and it’s-“

  
“Don’t think of it that way. If anything, Vilkas had to prove himself to you when we were kids. And this time, he’s still the standoffish one. And here we are, off on our own.”

  
“His fault,” Lena said. An ice wraith hissed as they turned a corner, and Lena shot fire at it, noticing Farkas wince only a little.

  
“Even so. His head is still in that cage, Lena, looking for the next thing that’s going to hurt him. Or hurt me,” he said, heaving a heavy sigh. “He’s always going to be in that cage.”

  
Lena was silent for a minute, skipping around the wraith’s remains and down the next flight of stairs. “Can we talk about something else? I know you’re right. But we’re walking down a mountain. I’d like to talk about something that doesn’t make me want to jump off it.”

  
“How about Belethor? He owns his own shop these days. Still a prime catch,” Farkas said, nudging her shoulder with his own. “You seen him since you’ve been back?”

  
Lena smacked him, her gloved hand pinging off his armored bicep. “Something else. You know,” she said, wrinkling her nose, “Vignar sent me in there the other day to sell some jewel one of the young Gray-Manes had given him. Belethor didn’t recognize me, of course. But he did offer to sell me his sister if I was on the market for such a thing. He sure turned out creepy. I did not expect that.”

  
Farkas thought Belethor’d always been creepy. His mutton chops and perpetually unlaced tunic? Super creepy. He sighed, relieved Lena thought so too. Better late than never. “So, not Belethor. How about this, then? Skjor pulled me aside yesterday. After we get back, you’re going on your trial.”

  
“So soon? Njada’s not going to like this one. Ria might even be mad. Whelps don’t usually go on trials for a few months, right?” A spark of excitement started to burn in her belly. Why should she want more excitement? Wasn’t the whole dragonborn mess enough? Yet, there it was – her opportunity to become a Companion. Something she’d dreamed about since her parents left her at Jorrvaskr. The spark grew to a flame as she imagined her own induction ceremony and hugged herself, unable to conceal her glee.

  
“That’s true, but you’re no ordinary whelp. You’re fully trained, in combat and magic, and Njada’s going to have to get used to that. It makes no sense to hold you back,” he said, looking warily at Lena’s hands. “Even though we don’t really like to think about the magic element of things, it’s still a useful skill. There’s just no reason to wait.”

  
“What about Skjor?” Lena walked up to the next wayshrine and brushed snow off the inscription. She had no intention of reading them again, but they needed to be clear. For some reason she couldn’t quite articulate. “Isn’t he also afraid I’m some brainwashed Dominion plant?”

  
“Skjor only thinks in terms of what’s good for the Companions. You’re dragonborn. You’re an asset. Best secure you sooner than later, get your loyalties on board. And if you betray us,” Farkas said, rolling his eyes, “he could always kill you anyway.”

  
“Hey!”

  
“I don’t approve. I just know how Skjor thinks, that’s all. Anyway, so yeah, your trial’s coming up, soon. You’re going to look for a shard of Wuuthrad. Dustman’s Cairn, maybe a day out of White-“

  
“What? A shard of Wuuthrad? Really? Ysgramor’s weapon?” Lena stopped in her tracks once again.

  
“Yup. Kodlak got a tip one was hidden in Dustman’s Cairn, so…” Farkas looked to his side, and turned when he realized Lena’d fallen behind. “Why are you stopped? Is something wrong?”

  
“I thought that was a myth. That it was shattered and hidden across Skyrim. I can’t believe it.”

  
“Well, we’re proving a few legends true these days. Believe it. We have several shards already. Only missing a few more and then Eorlund can reforge the thing.” He beckoned to Lena. “If we want to get back to Ivarstead by sunset, we need to go. Although, I'm surprised at how easy this was. I'd planned for the climb to take a few days, at least.”

  
Lena stared up at the mountain. They were halfway down already. That shouldn't be possible. Then again, she was part dragon and about to embark on a quest to find a mythical weapon, so maybe she'd leave the questioning to another day. She skipped to catch up, surpassing Farkas. "So when do I leave?"

  
“We leave the day after tomorrow,” he called behind her back.

  
“We?” She turned around to look at him, pink-cheeked.

  
“Yeah. Someone’s got to be your shield-sibling, and on your trial, it has to be one of the Circle. Vilkas usually goes, but this time that’s...not such a good idea. Vignar and Kodlak both realize they made a mistake pushing you together too quickly.”

  
“Yeah, they really underestimated his stubbornness. So the trial…” She didn’t want to get back on the topic of Vilkas.

  
“Right. I’ll be there to make sure you conduct yourself with honor befitting the Companions,” he said, smirking. “That means no magic, you know.”

  
Lena narrowed her eyes. “That’s not what it means.”

  
“No,” Farkas said, skewering another ice wraith on his sword, “but it was worth a shot.”

  
“You’re not really that freaked out by my magic, are you?”

  
He was quiet for a moment. “Nords have never really liked magic. You remember. You lived here for ten years. Has there ever been a magic-user in the Companions? And now, you’re a Dominion-trained mage and a mythical being on top of it all. It’s hard to get used to, you know. And you have to admit, fire shooting from a person’s fingertips is a bit freaky,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning up in a tiny smile.

  
“I know, and thanks.”

  
“For what?”

  
“Sticking by me, even though I Shouted you down the other day. I still can’t believe I did that.”

  
“No harm done. So, the trial,” Farkas said, his eyes alight with excitement. “Skjor’ll give you the rundown when we get back, but…it’s a day out of Whiterun, so we get to camp…”

  
Lena smiled. Farkas could go on and on about camping and keeping warm at night and whether they should carry winter versus summer bedrolls. She’d missed him – his enthusiasm for uncomfortable outdoor things, his loyal heart, even his tendency to tease. And she’d missed this – their easy companionship, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable difficulties. She imagined a day, perhaps not far in the future – Vilkas would come around, and she’d have both her best friends back. She sighed, and a weight lifted from her shoulders. Hope. Possibility. On that day, being dragonborn might not seem quite so bad.

 

 


	4. Tooth and Claw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena's trial, and the tiniest of sparks between her and Farkas as they confide in each other.

“Looks like someone has been here recently.  Digging, grave robbing, maybe just getting out of the snow. Either way, we need to be on our guard,” Farkas said, waving a torch around the entrance of Dustman’s Cairn.  Muddy footprints dotted the dirt floor, and several draugr spilled out of their caskets, along with their ancient, yet somehow functional weapons. “Want to rest now or start exploring?”

Lena raised her eyebrows.  “How can you think of staying in this anteroom when who knows what’s in there?” She motioned to the dark corridor ahead.  “Draugr, gold, magic…things? Are you serious?” Lena adjusted the shirt she wore under her armor. “I need to buy new clothes and gear, so treasure would be nice. Ria’s sweet to let me borrow hers, but they’re a little tight.”   

“I was hoping you’d say that. I’m too excited to sleep.  But you _have_ had a rough month since you got back, so I figured…”

“We had to delay this trial for two weeks already because of that situation near Rorikstead, with the Forsworn. I need to start pulling my weight. I’ll tell you if I feel faint,” Lena said, frowning. They hadn't let her go up to Whiterun's boundary with the Reach, but Ria and Farkas had, along with Vilkas and Aela. The tales they'd told...a child had been stolen from her bed and the trail led to a Forsworn camp. The Companions, working with Whiterun and Reach guards, had burned the camp and sent the Forsworn back into the hills, but the child...

Lena shivered and conjured up a gold light that floated around her head like a candle’s flame. “Put down that smoky torch and let’s go!”

After taking care of a few more draugr who objected to their presence in the cairn, they walked through a hallway that opened onto a rounded room with a locked gate blocking the next passage. Lena cast her candlelight around the room and ran off to a small alcove, where Farkas could hear gold coins jingling into her pack.  “Too bad your face stopped glowing.  You could save your magic,” he joked. 

“Nice. So vandalism is funny now,” Lena huffed. “I think I see the mechanism for the door!”

Farkas walked after her.  “Be-“

Too late. An iron gate slammed shut and trapped Lena in the alcove.  “Well, at least there are a few potions in here,” she said, smiling thinly and walking toward the gate, where Farkas stood, smiling, arms crossed over his chest.

“Hmmm…look what you’ve gotten yourself into,” he said in a sing-song voice. “I don’t think potions are going to help, sister. Sit tight, I think I see another lever, let me –“  he stopped and turned his back to Lena, crouching and drawing his sword.

Several heavily-armed bandits ran into the room. One, two…Lena counted six…no, not bandits.  Matching armor, shining swords made of…silver?  She slammed her hands on the gate, and paced back and forth, her heart pounding in her chest. She had to get out and help Farkas, but how? Her Unrelenting Force shout wasn’t strong enough to break down the ancient gate, and she had no weapons heavy enough to bash it in. 

“We knew you were coming, dog,” one of them snarled, twirling his silver sword like a baton. 

“Is he one of them?”

“Doesn’t matter, he wears that armor, he dies.  Killing him will make for an excellent story!”

“None of you will be alive to tell it!” Farkas grinned. He looked back at Lena, lifted his chin, and winked.

Lena had no idea why Farkas was grinning…and winking.  Strong as he was, he was no match for six mercenaries at once. Lena gasped and cursed her own stupidity. She was a mage, and an archer, wasn’t she? She moved to draw her bow when she noticed that Farkas was growing larger, and darker… and hairier. He was no longer human, but had transformed into a giant wolf, growling and…yes, _strutting_ toward the intruders. 

She stepped slowly, backwards toward the bier, and lowered her bow. The chamber erupted in a whirl of blood and silver, accompanied by screams and snapping bones.

Then silence, and the rise and fall of the gigantic wolf’s chest as he gasped for breath. 

The wolf turned to Lena and let out a noise halfway between snarl and whine.  Lena clumsily raised her bow again. Was Farkas even still…in there? The wolf yelped, shook his great head a little, and ran off toward the gated hallway.  “Super,” Lena muttered. “My first real quest as a Companion, and I’m going to starve to death with a werewolf.” 

The gate rose with a loud clank, freeing Lena to run into the main chamber, bow still drawn.  A second later, Farkas ran back in, fully armored, looking embarrassed and a little fearful.  “Are you all right?  I hope I didn’t scare you.”

“You hope you didn’t _scare me_?” Lena started, dropping her bow and advancing on him. “Scare me?  Of course you freaking scared me. I was terrified those people were going to kill you. And me. And then I thought you were going to run off in wolf form and leave me behind that gate. And,” she gestured wildly at Farkas, “werewolf!! Why in Oblivion wouldn’t I be scared?” 

Farkas backed up a few paces. “Am I scaring you now?”

Lena took a few tentative steps toward him and looked at his face. His eyes were wide, dark, and gentle.  All Farkas.  Lena shook her head and shivered. “No.  I – I don’t think so. But, I think we need to talk.  In fact, this talk is long overdue.” 

“I know.  I owe you an explanation, and I’ll tell you everything. But can we get through this trial first?  There are bound to be more draugr, and probably more Sil- more of those guys. Eyes on the prey, not the horizon.”

Lena narrowed her eyes.  “Farkas, you’re not allowed to get all zen on me when _you’re_ the one who just made me lose at least five years off my life.”  

Farkas’s shadowed eyes crinkled as he grinned at her. “That does sound good, doesn’t it?  Of course, I might have it backwards.”

 

* * *

 

“Ok, we’ve put down all the draugr, those assholes who seem not to like you much back there are dead, and the fragment of Wuuthrad is safe in my backpack. Bonus, all those silver swords will buy me an entire new wardrobe. Can we talk now?” Lena and Farkas set up camp back in the anteroom.  It was too late to walk back to Whiterun, and a thick, wet snow had started to fall, so camping sounded good, even in a crypt.  After they got their fire going, it was a warm and dry crypt.

She was still a little lightheaded from the last room of the barrow. After they'd found the shard, a huge, horned draugr had popped from a coffin in the middle of the bier, startling Lena into releasing more magic than she'd planned. A firestorm, it had surrounded her, burning the draugr to ash in record time. Farkas had barely pulled his sword, in fact. He'd seemed pretty impressed, she remembered, smiling.

After her breathing and heartbeat returned to normal, she'd felt...something. A pull. A call, like drums of war or a whistle before an ambush. A wall, curved and gargantuan, covered in writing that smoldered like embers in the stone surface. She'd touched it, and -

She tossed her head, shaking off the strange yearning that bubbled up from the back of her throat. A magic wall could wait: her friend was a werewolf.

Farkas tossed her an apple and some cheese. He had no idea how Lena would take his story. Werewolves weren't exactly good guys in most parts of Skyrim, and he wasn't sure he could handle Lena thinking less of him.  “Well, I’m a werewolf.”

Lena huffed and threw the apple at Farkas, who took a bite, and tossed it back. “Wait, I’m not done, stop throwing things at me. I’m a werewolf, but I’m still…me.”

“How does that work? I’ve heard of werewolves in Skyrim, Morrowind… inhuman beasts with no real conscience, no thought.  Just killing machines.”

“Well, we’re different.” Farkas shrugged and continued rummaging in his pack. “When I change, it’s a choice, and I can still think like a human. Aela and Skjor tell me it’s a gift, but – “

“Aela and Skjor? Wait, they’re werewolves too?”

“Shit.  I didn’t mean to say that, it wasn’t my secret to tell." Farkas had no idea how to explain the ritual, the bloodlust, the rush he felt as he turned under the moons...maybe he'd just let her ask the questions. He'd answer as best he could, but no point volunteering information that would just scare Lena. "But, yes. The Circle are werewolves, and it’s a gift from Hircine." _Fuck_. 

“Hircine?” Lena’s eyes widened. “You mean the  _Daedric Lord_  Hircine?  He gives nothing away for free.”

Too late. He'd said too much, and Vilkas was going to kill him. _Fuck it_. Farkas swiped his face with his hands and groaned. “I know, there’s a price to pay. We hunt for him during our lifetimes, and when we die, we hunt for him instead of going to Sovngarde. Oh, and we don't rest well. When I'm just me, I feel tired...even after a good night's sleep. I made this deal not long after you…after we thought you died.  All I wanted was to be strong.  I wasn’t thinking of the future.”

Lena took a bite of her apple.  “You sold your soul to Hircine for more muscles?  I don’t – “

“No, that’s all me.  I’ve done nothing but train and fight for the past fifteen years.”

“And play the lute,” Lena reminded him, taking some of the bread loaf he was pulling apart. 

“Yeah, and that. My one vice," Farkas laughed. "I’m a strong man, but that’s nothing compared to my beast form.  I need no weapons.  I can kill with one blow. I can detect prey a mile away, even as a…well, even when I’m just me. My senses are…it’s…difficult to explain. I don’t know whether it’s something I want to do during my afterlife, but at eighteen, I didn’t really think much about that.”

Lena looked down. “And…Vilkas?  Is he…?”

“Vilkas is part of the Circle. And Kodlak. Although…Kodlak wants out.  He hasn't been able to heal right in years, and keeps getting sicker. So, he's thinking of Sovngarde. Don’t know if there really is a way out, but if there is, we'll find it.”

“If you do find a cure…would you use it?” Lena watched the firelight cast shadows on Farkas’s face as he thought about his answer.

“Honestly?” he sighed, and shrugged again. “I’m not sure. I like being the wolf. Maybe when I’m Kodlak’s age, I might see things differently, but right now…I tend not to overthink, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

"What a pair we are. Part dragon, part wolf," Lena said. "Who'd have thought we'd lead such strange lives? We weren't strange kids. Were we?"

Farkas sighed, relieved her reaction wasn't one of horror. She wasn't running scared back to Whiterun, or...farther. In time, she'd learn to trust him, maybe even learn to trust his beast. "I wasn't," he said, his eyes twinkling. 

Lena grinned at him, and then scowled. “And who are those guys back there who tried to kill us?  And how did they know we’d be there?”

“Silver Hand.  Group of people who hate werewolves. Bad people.  They don’t just kill, they torture and experiment. It’s one thing to kill death machines, as you put it, but they know who we are.  They know, and they still kill. So we kill them back.” Farkas took a bite of cheese and tossed Lena another slice of bread. He didn't want to talk about the Silver Hand with her. Their ferocity and viciousness never failed to shock Farkas, who thought he'd seen it all at eighteen.  He realized how naive he'd been the first time Skjor'd led them through one of the Hand's torture chambers. The blood, the skinned wolves hanging from hooks...the vomit, after he and Vilkas had seen more carnage than they ever thought possible. He shivered.  

“Ah, I know I’m changing the subject, but…can you tell me what happened with that wall? After we found the shard? I didn’t see anything, but you…it was like you were seeing things that weren’t there.  Or seeing into…somewhere else. And then you touched it…” Farkas opened his eyes wide. “That dragon at the watchtower. When it lost its soul. That's what it looked like. Do you think touching that wall is like killing a dragon? Do you...get something from it? You Shouted me ass over teakettle after that. Do you feel anything different?”

“I don’t know.  Another question for the Greybeards not to answer, I guess.  It felt like…yeah, a bit like that. Or when Wulfgar and Borri taught me those Shouts, like energy. Just...pure energy. Maybe it’s another Shout? How…just by reading an inscription on a wall?”

Lena bit her lip and thought for a moment, scrabbling in her pack and pulling out a book. She flipped to the middle and pointed to a scribble on one of the pages. “I found this book in Vignar's room. According to this, the inscription told of a king who died after getting breathed on by a dragon. Oh, gods, do you think I can breathe fire?” Lena dropped her book and stood up, pacing around the shadowy room. 

Farkas leaned back on his elbows, and said “well, only one way to find out. Give it a shout.”

Lena closed her eyes and searched for the words. “Yes, I can see it. _Yol_ ,” she whispered, and her mouth and the space behind her eyes sizzled. Power. She turned to an empty corner of the cairn and … Shouted. “ _YOL!_ ”  A spray of wildfire blazed, not from her mouth, so not _just_ like a dragon, but from her very being, the fire rising from her body and scorching the stone and debris in its path. 

Lena stood still for a moment, and then twirled around and there was Farkas, on his feet, staring at the corner where her fire was still burning strong.  She ran to him, laughing, and looked up into his eyes.  Gods, how did he get so tall? “Can I do this?  Do you really think I can do all this?  Be dragonborn? Hunt down those…monsters?”

Farkas smiled lazily down at her and brushed a bit of soot from her cheek.  “You can knock down trees and breathe fire.”

“And run really fast,” Lena reminded him, her color rising.

“And run really, _really_ fast,” Farkas agreed, laughing softly. “A month ago I would have said that was impossible. But you can do the impossible.  So I say you can do it all.”  He walked back to the fire and started to unroll his bedding. “But Kodlak was right, you’re not alone anymore.  You have a family again, and you can ask for our help.” 

Lena exhaled, and exhaustion flooded her body. Excitement still burned in her belly, but it would take more than a month to fully recover from years of fear and abuse. Her body knew that already; it took more time for her brain to catch up.  She unrolled her bedding and lay down across from Farkas, and smiled at the dying embers of her dragon fire. “Farkas, you never said how the Silver Hand knew we’d be here.  Who knew about the trial other than you, me, Skjor, and Kodlak?”

Farkas was silent for a moment, and when he finally spoke, he sounded sad. “I don’t know.  But I _will_ find out.”

 


	5. A Long Time Coming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena's induction ceremony, and we discover more about the conflict Vilkas is feeling. If there was any doubt about Farkas's feelings, this should take care of those.

The training yard behind Jorrvaskr looked almost festive. Sunset turned the eastern mountains a rich, burnished gold, and the warm glow of candlelight hovered over every surface. Tilma’s rosemary-scented roast chicken, spiced potatoes, and apple crisp lined a long table under the verandah, turning an ordinary night into a special occasion.

And it was a special occasion, in Lena’s eyes. Even the warriors’ attire marked the event. Rather than armor, they wore their best ‘civilian’ finery – their tunics brushed and pressed, their hair newly combed and plaited. Even Farkas, whose job it was to lead the ceremony inducting her into the company of Companions.

He lifted an open hand and beckoned from his place before the gray stone wall, his fingers curling slightly. Her heart thudded and her legs suddenly stiffened. How would she get over there if she couldn’t walk? But Farkas smiled, calling her again, and she took a deep breath, and found the strength to move. She walked to stand beside him, facing those who would, after tonight, become her brothers and sisters. Her new family.

Farkas was doing a great job. The nervousness he’d confided to Lena earlier that morning had either dissipated, or was easier to hide than he’d feared. She should have known he’d have trouble speaking in public, her soft-spoken friend who’d always left the talking to her. Or Vilkas. But as he intoned the ritual with the voice of a storyteller, Lena found her own nerves soothed, and let her mind wander.

The warriors lining the edge of the verandah were all brave defenders of Skyrim, she knew. They cared about matters the Legion thought beneath them, and Hold guards simply hadn’t time to investigate. Yes, they could be a bit rowdy, and some of them were, admittedly, werewolves, but Lena felt their hearts were noble.

Or at least mostly-noble. Njada's steely gaze met her own, and Lena allowed a tiny scowl to cross her face. Lena’d tried to laugh with Ria and Athis when they found out about the face-cream incident. Njada had bowed, accepting her accolades, and if Lena’d been a ‘normal’ whelp, sure of her place in the company, her own laugh would have been genuine. It was a good trick, she admitted.

But, she feared their public faces didn’t match how they felt about her underneath. Facts were facts: the dragonborn was as much liability as asset. She was magic. She meddled in forces no one seemed to understand. She’d come to them at the same time dragons found their way back to Skyrim. Which came first? Lena was caught up in the age-old dilemma, and she thought there were some who’d blame her. Find her responsible. And she wasn’t at all sure they’d be wrong.

And then there was Vilkas. Lena caught his eye, and thought she saw a tiny smile tug at the corner of his mouth before he nodded and looked away. Well, she wasn’t going anywhere, and eventually she’d break down those walls, just as she had when they were children.

He’d ambushed her earlier that afternoon, and their conversation still replayed in her mind. Whether it was a threat or a warning, she’d yet to decide.  
  
_“Farkas told me what happened. What you know.” Vilkas stood by Jorrvaskr’s front door, surprising Lena as she’d skipped up the steps from the marketplace. He winced as she shrank back. Was she frightened of him?_ Do I care?

_She looked at him warily, clenching her fingers around her paper-wrapped parcels. “I thought he might. Vilkas, I won’t-“_

_“That’s what I need to make sure. That you won’t. You tell no one. If Jorrvaskr becomes a target and the Companions are pulled apart by those who don’t understand what we’ve done, or why…I can see how the Dominion might benefit from that. Skyrim further demoralized. More of its heritage, gone. And if word does get out...”_

_Lena took a deep breath and tried to remember Farkas’s words as they’d climbed down the mountain._ He’s still in that cage _. “Do you really feel…feel I’m that evil? That I’d do anything to harm you? Or Farkas?”_

_“It’s not my job to feel. It’s my job to protect Kodlak. And my brother. And I’ll do that, even though it might…” he said, staring over her shoulder at the Gildergreen in the courtyard below, "even though it might hurt.”_

Hurt others or hurt yourself _? Lena huffed and nodded. “What about Aela and Skjor?”_

_Vilkas tilted his head to the side and looked at her. Really looked at her, for the first time since she’d returned. The twinkle in her spring-green eyes was just as bright. Her curls bounced in the breeze like they did when she was young, running in the tundra after foxes or skipping up the stairs after sneaking apples from the kitchen. She’d acquired a few new scars, but…she was still Lena. Wasn’t she? Do I really think she’d hurt us? He swallowed. Like he said, feelings weren’t part of his job description._

_“Farkas may be strongest of us all, but the most vicious? The most bloodthirsty? Aela and Skjor need no protection. But you,” Vilkas paused, a hollow chuckle escaping his lips, though sadness shadowed his eyes, “you will. If betrayal is your grand plan, and you somehow end up fooling us? Run. Run fast and run far, Lena,” he said, and walked past her into the mead hall._

“Would you raise your shield in her defense?” Lena shook herself out of her daze. Farkas's challenge to the company rang out through the silent courtyard.

"I would stand at her back, that the world might never overtake us,” the warriors shouted, some raising their fists to the sky.

But Lena heard something over their booming rejoinder: a catch in Farkas’s voice. He choked on his words, but why? She turned her head. His eyes, usually blue as a summer evening sky, shone silver in the candlelight. Tears. He was crying.

As they stood, watching each other, Lena's eyes welled. What he'd gone through over the past fifteen years, all the hopes and shattered dreams...the realization hit her like a punch to the gut. She’d been so focused on her ordeal. Her pain, her loss, her new, strange identity. And it was a lot. More than any one person should bear.

But Farkas…Vilkas. She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining their sorrow, their grief. It battered against her defenses and flayed her raw. Was their best friend dead? Kidnapped? Tortured and enslaved? Imagination was all they had to go on. No wonder Vilkas... She couldn’t bear it. Her parents – she’d always known what had happened to them. She’d not had to guess. But...

A single tear ran down her cheek. She gazed at everyone gathered under the now-starry sky. Farkas. Vilkas. And Kodlak, and Vignar.

And all her new family and friends. She straightened her spine and vowed, then and there: she would defend them from what was coming. Dragons, the ever-present threat of the Dominion, even the crush between Stormcloaks and Legion, if it came their way. Anything. Even if she was the one responsible for bringing it down.

 

* * *

  
Farkas thought the ceremony was going about as well as it could go. He’d stumbled through much of the script without stuttering or forgetting his lines. He’d also kept his eyes on the company, and off Lena. He deserved an award for that one as well. She’d bundled her hair in a messy knot atop her head, but a few raven curls escaped and kept blowing in the breeze, twirling around her neck, bouncing off her flushed cheeks.

Very distracting.

After Lena was reported missing, he’d feared her lost forever, but that didn’t stop him from seeing her, in his mind, at every ceremony he attended. Laughing at his nervousness, raising her glass, welcoming Jorrvaskr’s latest whelp with open arms. So many years, wasted and gone.

He stole a quick glance her way, and his heart skipped. His imagination was nothing compared to the real thing.

 _Real. She’s real_. Maybe he’d not let himself truly believe until this minute. Maybe he was more like his brother than he thought, shields up and awaiting the next crushing blow. But in this moment, his dreams collided with the sight before his eyes, and an avalanche of love and pain and relief overwhelmed him, choking his words. “I would stand at her back, that the world might never overtake us,” Farkas croaked along with the crowd, the solemn words gaining new meaning for him today, so many years overdue.

He inhaled sharply as Lena turned to him, breaking protocol. Had she heard the tears in his voice? She could definitely see them, welling in his eyes like bubbling hot springs. Vilkas would mock him endlessly, he knew.

But Lena took a great, shuddering breath and closed her eyes, one tear charting a shining path down her cheek. She turned back to the company.

Cheers sounded. Bottles of mead were uncorked, and wine flowed. The celebration would go on all night.

Farkas slowly turned around and stared up at the stars. They were blurry again. The night Kodlak broke the news about Lena, Farkas had run outside and watched the blurry stars all night, trying to imagine a place where Lena was alive. Under the same stars. A place where she was simply biding her time until she could come home. To him.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and looked around to see her, smiling as she slipped a cup of mead into his hand. She motioned with her head back toward the party. Farkas nodded, gave one more grateful glance to the stars, now shining bright and clear, and followed her into the crowd.

 

* * *

 

 

After the ceremony, Vilkas followed Aela to her room and shut the door. She didn’t know. Skjor didn’t know. But they’d find out. And when they did… He’d not been exaggerating when he’d told Lena to run, should she attempt betrayal. “Nice,” he said, raising his eyebrows at the new briarheart antlers hanging on her wall. “Did you take him down yourself?”

Aela scoffed, sitting down at a rough wooden desk and crossing her arms over her chest. “I wouldn’t have it hanging up, otherwise. He surprised me outside Karthwasten. I was hunting bears with an old friend out that way, and if it hadn’t been for the bear attacking the Forsworn at the same time, I’m not sure we would have made it. Those things are creepy strong.” She leaned forward and looked Vilkas up and down, frowning at his clenched jaw and fidgeting hands. “So…what’s got you so worked up, brother?”

“The party’s nice and loud, so we can speak without being overheard.” Vilkas walked over to the desk, and leaned on it, both hands braced against the news he had to share. _Do I have to? I do_. He winced. “My brother, my oaf of a brother… he told Lena about the beastblood, about Hircine, about everything. It wasn’t all his fault, I guess, though he could have kept some of the details to himself. The Silver Hand ambushed them during Lena’s trial, and it was either turn or die. He made the right decision, but damn, it puts us in a terrible position. Kodlak knows.”

Aela picked up a dagger and dug the blade into a groove on her desk, moving it back and forth. She considered her options. “Well, we have two choices. Kill her now before she spills, or wait and see what happens. And then kill her when she moves to betray us.”

“Or,” Vilkas said, palms out in a gesture of begrudging reasonableness, “maybe my brother’s right, and Lena’s not a traitor. Not a Dominion agent. Loyal to us. No killing necessary.” He flinched a little, thinking of what Kodlak or Vignar would do if they knew he was speaking of a shield-sister this way. Especially Lena, who’d been as close to a real sister as he’d ever hope to get. "Didn't you tell me not to be such an ass just a few weeks ago? That night after Lena knocked me on mine?"

“You’re not going soft on me, are you? I didn't know she was a mage that night,” Aela spat. “You can’t trust a mage. Especially a Thalmor-trained mage. And now she’s mixed up with dragons. There’s no way her loyalties aren’t divided, at best.”

“I know, that’s tricky. Although, her story checks out. It makes sense, and I’ve heard somewhat of it happening before. Hammerfell expelled the Dominion, and that had to be humiliating. They can’t win by sheer force, so turning Redguard against Redguard is something they would try. It will fail, of course, but they still have to try.”

Vilkas picked up one of Aela’s trophy swords from a display case and examined its balance point. “And we all know they’ve been throwing fire on our civil war for years. Setting Lena up as a Stormcloak spy is exactly their kind of move. Her father was from Windhelm, after all.”

“Vilkas, only you would try to walk around inside Thalmor shoes. Of course, they wear pretty luxurious shoes.”

“I do like nice things,” Vilkas said, walking to the door. He was defending Lena. Had he already made up his mind? “Here’s a compromise. Let’s watch Lena for a month. Where she goes, what she does, who she writes, everything. If she does attempt to betray us, we’ll handle things your way. And we won’t te –“

“No, we won’t tell your brother. That certainly wouldn’t end well.”

 

* * *

  
  
Njada watched Farkas support an intoxicated Lena down the stairs to the whelps’ dorm. Since Little Miss Perfect had returned, Farkas never had time for anyone else. Njada’s mouth twisted into a snarl. She and Ria trained harder than any of the other new bloods, but no one seemed to notice. They’d had to wait three months before their trial.

Nobody’d warned her you had to be a half-dragon abomination to get ahead in Jorrvaskr.  
  
Farkas nodded, passing the shadowy corner where she sat, but looked away quickly to catch Lena. The drunk woman broke away and was skipping down to Kodlak’s rooms.

“Ok, no, this way. Kodlak’s asleep! Let the man rest,” Farkas admonished, laughing softly.

“Psshh... you said you guys don’t rest any – “

Farkas’s overly loud coughing covered the rest of Lena’s drunk babble, and Njada watched him enter the dormitory and leave about ten minutes later, heading back to his room, limping slightly. If Farkas had overseen her trial, she thought, he wouldn’t have come back injured and obviously worried. Maybe Lena wasn’t so perfect after all.

Njada seethed for a few more minutes at the injustice of it all. Maybe Ria and Torvar were still awake, and not passed out in the great room with the other whelps. They’d see her way of things. Especially Torvar.

So Njada stomped back upstairs, and didn’t see Farkas leave his room and walk back to the dorm. She didn’t see him stand in the doorway, looking in on the sleeping Lena. And she didn’t see him stay there, for the rest of the night, until the sun rose.

 


	6. Brothers in Angst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vilkas seems no closer to reconciling his fears. Will a new understanding help him come to terms with Lena's presence? If not, what will it take?

Vilkas stumbled downstairs in the wee hours of the morning, tired and grumpy from too much mead and too many worries. His encounter with Aela after the ceremony had him questioning himself, and the more he did, the more he realized he didn’t like the answers. Did he really think Lena was compromised? She could be. Anything was possible. But was she really?

And did his rising desire to believe her mean he, too, was compromised? Biased by years of friendship?  
  
He fumed, walking past the whelps’ dorm, but a movement in the shadows made him stop and quietly double back. Someone blocked the doorway, a tall, broad someone. Farkas, looking in on Lena. Well, that was nothing new. But hours had passed since he’d carried Lena downstairs, too tipsy to walk on her own. Vilkas wasn’t judging – it was her party, and gods knew how long it’d been since she’d cut loose. Just…how long had Farkas been standing there?

Lena’d spent every night in the whelps’ dorm since she’d come back from her trial. So far, so good: no nightmares, no screaming like a Hagraven and waking everyone up. But he knew Farkas checked on her, at least once a night. Well, they didn’t sleep much anyway, right?

A cry sounded, just on the edge of frantic, and he stepped forward as his brother strode into the room. Vilkas’s stomach clenched a little. If what Farkas and Kodlak said about Lena’s time with the Dominion was true, he didn’t want to know what she dreamed. A pang of sympathy washed over him, unbidden and unwanted.

He crept closer to the doorway. His brother knelt by Lena’s bed. Her hand shot out, and Vilkas froze. Would she hurt him? Even unintentionally, if her dream was a violent one, all her power could… But her fingers only curled around his brother’s arm for a moment before slipping back under her pillow.

Vilkas relaxed and stepped a little closer. Lena’s eyes were closed, and her jaw made popping noises as her teeth ground together. Tears covered her cheeks, shining in the bedside candlelight. She cried out again.

“Shhh…” Farkas crooned, pushing her damp curls back from her forehead, “it’s all right. You’re safe.”

Vilkas stood in the shadows, watching his brother’s vigil for a few more minutes. He’d not given much thought to his brother’s tears during the ceremony. Farkas obviously cared for Lena. But…the softness in his hands as they smoothed her hair, the tenderness Vilkas could see in his eyes... Gods. He’d not expected that. He ambled down the hall to his room, his stomach clenching and his heart racing in his chest. What in Oblivion was he supposed to do now?

 

* * *

 

In the month since Lena’s induction, she’d cleared bandit hideouts with Ria and Farkas, and hunted the southern woods with Aela and Skjor. And Farkas, of course, since he refused to leave her alone with Aela. Lena understood why, although she thought he was being a tad overprotective. Lena’d laughed at Farkas’s muttered warnings. “Aela’s not likely to attempt an assassination in public, is she?”

But her laughter faded away as the worry-lines on his face deepened. “She protects her own, Lena. And pulls no punches.”

Each mission had gone off without incident, though. Athis even came along a few times, too, and Lena’d come to appreciate the sassy Dunmer. Her magic and status as Dovahkiin didn’t faze him one bit, and he remained the only Companion to treat Lena like she was no different from anyone else. It was refreshing.

She and Athis handled a kidnap recovery last week, and he’d mercilessly teased her the whole time. Mikael, a bard at the Bannered Mare, had written a song about the dragonborn. He didn’t know it was her, of course, but that didn’t stop Athis from using it as her personal theme music halfway through the Pale and back. It got old after the eighth or ninth refrain, but to Lena’s surprise, the catchy little earworm kept coming back around again.

The teasing helped. She was still in that weird place where she belonged, yet didn't. She was one of the company, yet separate. Apart. And Athis's good-natured ribbing helped her relax a bit and enjoy her new freedom.

And there was so much to enjoy. She'd never given much thought to her day-to-day before, but now? The magic of everyday life held her enchanted. Even the most mundane routine became something to celebrate – especially her first Skyrim autumn after so many years away.

Her favorite season – chilly mornings giving way to molten, sunny afternoons. Birch leaves dropping and swirling into blue skies like gold coins tossed into Hunding Bay. She’d seen it once, on a trip to Stros M’Kai when she was young, and never forgot, but the comparison was perfect. A blue so radiant, it almost hurt to look. Yet she could hardly look away.

Lena spent every available moment outdoors, staring at the snowy eastern mountains from the overlook, or walking through the village to buy roasted hazelnuts (her fingers were pink at the tips, a consequence of her impatience), or her favorite: listening to Kodlak’s and Vignar’s stories each night around the temporary firepit set up under the verandah. Scents floated through chilly air, redolent of childhood memories: smoke, warm mead, and sweet apples roasted with cinnamon over the embers.

She’d been shut inside far too long, and as beautiful as a Skyrim autumn was, a Skyrim winter was nothing to be trifled with. Even in Whiterun, one of the more temperate Holds. So, she planned to squeeze every drop of autumn while she still could. Gods knew where she’d be, next year.

The last week of Frost Fall found the Companions preparing for one last hunting trip before winter set in. Kodlak had taken inventory and declared their stores less than full. So, one early morning, Lena and Ria followed Farkas, Aela, and Skjor through town, admiring frosty designs on the dark windows and crunching icy grasses beneath their feet. She took deep, cleansing breaths of the cold, bracing air, again, feeling her freedom.

Lena’s group followed the river south toward Riverwood. Vilkas’s group (including Njada and Athis) had left earlier, pushing further south into Falkreath. Lena’d been tempted to join, if for no other reason than to impose herself on Vilkas and wear him down, but…Helgen. She wasn’t ready to confront that part of her recent past just yet.

By mid-morning, she’d brought down several elk, and looked forward to carrying them back to the city with pride. Maybe she’d even get Adrienne to show her around the forge in exchange for raw materials. 

As the noonday sun crested, Skjor determined the hunt a success. They had deer and elk, and Ria’d even snagged a fox, though she’d not been aiming for the little furry animal. It made her sad. But between them all, they’d prepped Jorrvaskr for the winter with food, and hides for leather and blankets. There was enough to share, in case families found themselves in need before winter’s grip loosened.

A red setting sun cast the woods in shadow by the time their game was dressed and ready to carry back to the city. Vignar had come with a horse and wagon – there was no way to carry everything by hand. A moment after they’d loaded up, Skjor stilled, and held a fist in the air for quiet.

The horse nickered and pulled against his tack. The wagon creaked, loud in the tense silence. Skjor sniffed. Lena looked at Farkas in alarm, but he only shrugged and tapped his nose. Apparently his wolfy sense of smell wasn’t as sensitive as Skjor’s yet.

Aela shinnied up a nearby tree to get a better view. She snapped her fingers, and pointed to the west. “Bear,” she mouthed. “Big one.”

Lena nocked an arrow and listened. Sure enough, behind a line of overgrown brush, twigs and leaves cracked under a large animal’s weight.

No Companion worth his salt (and backed up by several armed shield-siblings) feared any animal, but no sensible person truly yearned to take on a brown bear ready for hibernation. Irritable, and as huge as it would ever be. A droplet of sweat ran down her temple. _Just turn around_. But no. The crackling became louder. It was lumbering their way.

Several things seemed to happen almost at once. Aela fired, but just as the arrow loosed, the branch on which she was precariously balanced cracked, and she tumbled to the ground. The arrow glanced off the bear’s shoulder. Angry now, it roared, breaking free of the brush, and ran at top speed. Straight toward Ria and Farkas.

Lena drew in a breath and fired her own arrow deep into the behemoth, just shy of his neck. It slowed, but kept coming, its jaws slavering as it roared, its fishy breath drifting on the breeze.

It wasn’t enough. Lena was close to panic. She hadn’t used her Shouts in front of the Companions yet. There were still some uncomfortable with the idea. _Well, now’s as good a time as any to reevaluate your comfort zone._

She drew in the Shout, and let it loose. The Thu’um’s echo reverberated through the woods, leaving branches swinging in its wake, but its force knocked the bear to the ground, haunches quivering and claws scrabbling for purchase in the loamy forest floor.

Farkas took advantage of its momentary daze and ran, slashing with his sword. Ria copied his movements from the other side, and between the two of them, the bear went down amid relieved cheers.

“That was a near thing,” Skjor said as he lifted Aela, supporting her with one arm wrapped around her waist.

Aela winced, tentatively placing weight on her left ankle and lifting it back up again with a hiss. “Thanks,” she said, her eyes meeting Lena’s for a moment before drifting over Lena’s shoulder.

Lena turned, finally lowering her bow. Her hands ached. Vilkas stood at the edge of the wood, his sword out. She swallowed. Had he seen…

Vilkas nodded at Lena, and gave Farkas a long look. When he was satisfied his brother was safe, he grinned and turned to the dark-haired Imperial collapsed in a heap next to the bear’s great head. “Good job, Ria. Second bear in as many months. I’m assuming we’ll hear about this one until midsummer, eh?”

 

* * *

 

 

Vilkas leaned against the wall behind Jorrvaskr, sipping coffee from a large tankard. The sun rose red over the mountains and Vilkas stared into it, the glare hurting his eyes, but he didn’t lift his hands for a shade.

“What are you going to do?”

Vilkas jumped, his coffee sloshing, steam rising from the tankard and swirling in jagged spirals. Farkas had sneaked up on him? He huffed. If someone with the grace of a mammoth could spook him, he needed to take better care. But to be fair, he was distracted by the very thing his brother came to nag him about. “I don’t know, brother.”

“You can smell it on her, can’t you? She’s telling the truth.”

“I- I’m not sure what I smell,” Vilkas said, picturing yesterday in the woods. He’d jogged up to the group just as Lena Shouted at that bear. The sheer power…much more potent than what she’d unleashed on Farkas. Paralyzed by fear and awe, he’d not been able to move. To help. It shamed him, and as Lena’d turned to him, her eyes wide and fearful, she wore the same scent. “I smell fear. And guilt. Shame.” _But…also hope_.

“She’s had to do things to survive over the years,” Farkas said, leaning his elbows against the wall. He turned to watch his brother. “Things she’s not proud of. Every time she looks at me or at you, I smell it, too. She is ashamed. If you knew the things she dreams of at night…”

Vilkas silently sipped his coffee. He still wasn’t sure he wanted to know. But…it was Lena. His friend. What could she possibly…? He swallowed and shook away the images that crept into his mind. _No_.

“What’s more important, your pride or your heart? You ate crow once before, you can do it again. And I know –“

“Too much has…It’s gone too far,” Vilkas said, resting his forehead on his fists. “How could she accept an apology from me now? I mean, if I wanted to.”

“She knows what a jackass you are,” Farkas said, bumping Vilkas’s shoulder with his elbow. “That’s how.”

“You’re making me feel so much better.”

“I should. She knows you, Vilkas. She knows the good and the bad, and way back when, she accepted both. She still does. She’s just waiting on you to accept her, too.”

“You’re talking a lot, lately.” The tankard clanked, overly loud in the still morning, as he set it down on the stone wall. “To her, to me… what’s going on?”

“It’s needed,” Farkas said, shrugging and staring into the distance. “I talk when it’s needed. When we were kids, you did enough talking for both of us. I stood by and watched. That was needed, then. You were this little spitfire, getting in trouble every day, angry. So angry. I watched, just in case you needed me. Waiting for you to come out on the other side.”

“Why’d the cage not affect you like that?”

“I’m not you. And it did affect me. Just in different ways.”

After a minute, Vilkas cleared his throat and opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Farkas was right. He wore his pride like armor. But did something else stand in his way? He grunted and hit the wall with his fist. _Pathetic. I’m a grown man who doesn’t understand his own mind_. Why was it so difficult to trust himself?

“If you want me to come with you, to talk to her, I will. I understand what you’re feeling, you know. I had the same doubts.” He stared down at the wall, his hands white-knuckled, clenching the edge. “Why do you think I was standing in her doorway for so long, night of her induction? I’m not a creep. I was just…trying to puzzle out what I think, what I feel. If it’s possible she’s not who she says she is, anymore.”

 _That wasn’t all you did there, brother_. Vilkas wondered if Farkas even knew what he felt yet, for all his words of wisdom. “You knew I was there? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, how did you…” Vilkas cleared his throat and sipped his coffee. He winced. “Ugh, cold as a stone. What did you decide about…the situation?”

“That it doesn’t matter. I can’t live my life thinking my best friend’s some sort of brainwashed enemy spy. If it turns out she is, if she’s fooling us, and fooling our wolves, I’ll deal with it then. And that’ll be on me.”

Vilkas stared into his mostly-empty tankard. What could he live with? What if his judgment got people killed? He lifted his eyes to meet his brother’s as Farkas continued. “But I can live with it. If I turned my back on her now, after all she’s been through, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself anymore. Question is, what can you live with?” he asked, as though he could read his brother’s mind. “And…do you want me to come with? Just for moral support. I won’t judge.”

“No,” Vilkas said, narrowing his eyes as he picked up his tankard and turned toward the verandah. He had a lot of work to do. “I think I know what I’m going to do. Thanks, though. For the talk. It helped.”

 

 

 

 


	7. Coffee, Pie, Tears, and Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vilkas gets over himself, and Lena and Farkas grow closer. Lena makes a decision about the Circle.

“Hey.”

Athis nudged Lena, and she looked up from her book. She’d seen a shadow approach their table near the outdoor firepit, but assumed it was Farkas. She didn’t need to look – she’d eventually feel the table shift as he sat next to her, and he’d ask a question or two about the Dovahzul she and Athis studied. But…Farkas wasn’t one to announce his presence.

It wasn’t Farkas.

Vilkas peered over a loaded tray, and motioned for Athis to find another seat. He grunted and left, humming “ _The Age of Oppression_ ” not quite under his breath. Vilkas ignored it and sat down, sliding the tray across the table.

She warily checked it out. Apple pie, steam still escaping the flaky layers of crust. Two tankards of coffee. One looked right. She sipped it and closed her eyes, a smile spreading across her face.

“Now that’s how someone should look after the first sip of coffee.” Vilkas sighed, relieved he’d not ended up wearing the coffee instead.

“You remembered!”

“No one else likes their coffee that white. Or that sweet.” Vilkas took a sip from the other tankard and huffed a little, staring into its inky depths. “Every once in a while, someone would ask me to pass the cream at breakfast, and it always made me feel so…” he said, finally meeting her eyes. “Lena, I’m sorr-“

“I know, and I appreciate it,” she said, taking a huge bite of pie. “I get it, I do. I understood your doubts. But…water under the bridge, ok? You’re here now, and you remembered my coffee/cream/honey ratio from fifteen years ago. That means a lot.”

They slipped into a quasi-comfortable silence for a minute or two. Vilkas watched the chilly morning breeze blow the pages of Lena’s book. The symbols were…like no language he’d ever seen. “Is that…dragon language?”

“Yeah, Jarl Balgruuf let me borrow this. His mage wasn’t happy,” Lena said, shaking her head a little and pointing at one row of symbols. “See this one? Dragon for _autumn_. It’s just…hard to imagine dragons taking piddly things like seasons into account.”

“It’s hard to imagine dragons at all. Looks like a bunch of claw marks to me,” Vilkas said, but it did pique his interest. He was a sucker for books and the secrets they held within their dusty covers. Among the other trainers, he alone set chapters for reading, and tested his classes on what they’d learned about combat and fighting strategies. He might not be the most popular teacher, but his students would learn all they could under his hand.

“I’m going to need help with all this. I think. I still have no idea what I need to do, but I can’t imagine any human can defeat any dragon singlehanded.”

“It’s hard to imagine, but there must be a reason you were given these powers,” he said. Vilkas still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that his friend could breathe fire and topple bears using her voice. He’d barely come to terms with her magic, but this? Fantastic, in the purest sense of the word. “At least Farkas stepped up, and Athis. Ria, so you didn’t have to go it completely alone. I can’t imagine. And I’ll do anything I can to make up for my, um…absence.”

Lena’s stomach flip-flopped. She’d kept her head down and held on to hope, picturing this day. Her best friends back at her side. She could do this. “Well, I’m going to have to go it alone for a bit. I want to learn more about this first,” she said, tapping her book, “and my strength isn’t near what it needs to be. But the Greybeards have a task for me, apparently. They’d mentioned a test when I was at High Hrothgar last month.”

“What sort of test?”

“It was all rather vague. But this morning, I found a letter in my pack. One of them sneaked it in, and it got lost in the shuffle. Weird, right? Why would they have done that instead of just telling me? Makes no sense.” She rolled her eyes and shrugged. “But they’re the Greybeards. If I were isolated up on that mountain… Anyway, I have to go find some horn. I looked it up when I was at Dragonsreach. The horn of Jurgen Windcaller, founder of the Greybeards. He was buried in Ustengrav.”

“That’s north of Morthal. Long way. We can go with you, though-“

“Nope. This one I really have to do alone. The letter said it was a test for me, only. And, it specifically said Farkas would get hurt if he accompanied me. They must have noticed his protective nature, even then,” she said, grinning and popping a piece of pie crust in her mouth. “Only the dragonborn can get through Ustengrav. I don’t know how, but the last thing I want is for you or Farkas to get trapped in a crypt.”

“Farkas isn’t going to like that.”

“No, I imagine not,” she said, finishing off her coffee. “But if it’s designed for the dragonborn, I should be able to make it. You guys can help me train. Get strong. Learn this blibbering language.”

“You might have some help,” Vilkas said, pursing his lips. He wasn’t sure how Lena would react to what he had to offer. “From an unexpected source, if you want it.”

“What do you mean? What help?”

“I talked to Aela and Skjor last week. After the hunting trip. They, um… have a proposition for you.”

Lena rested her chin in her hand. “This ought to be good.”

“I went in, swords flashing, so to speak, and told them you were on the level, I’d made the decision to trust you, so had Farkas and Kodlak, so we needed the Circle to speak as one.”

“Do tell what they decided. I’m waiting with bated breath to see if my life still hangs in the balance.”

“Yeah, I figured,” Vilkas said, idly flipping a couple of pages. Dragons had a word for farm. Like Lena said, it sounded too mundane for such a mythical beast to concern itself with. “But they agreed. They knew it after the hunting trip.” He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Wolf senses are more perceptive, and Aela and Skjor are the wolfiest we’ve got. Here’s the proposal: they want you in. In the Circle, I mean.”

She stared at Vilkas and struggled to keep her voice low. “You want me to be a werewolf? Being part dragon isn’t enough?”

“Well, imagine how strong you could be with both. How powerful.”

“Or, it could be too much for me. And from what Farkas said, it’s not reversible.”

“Not yet. Kodlak’s –“

“I know. Working on a way to break the bargain. I’m assuming he’s not in favor of this?” Lena didn’t want to do anything that would anger Kodlak, but if it might truly make her stronger? Dragons might have a nice word for autumn, but there were also words for tyranny, annihilation, chaos, and far too many for death. She needed all the help she could get.

“No. But as he’s fond of reminding us, he’s not our boss. So you do what you want – he’s not going to kick you out. After all, we’re not hurting anyone,” Vilkas insisted. “Far from it, in fact.”

“I’ll have to think on it. Farkas already told me much of what to expect, but it’s sort of a big deal.”

“You could say that, yep.”

“We’re going to Valtheim Towers tomorrow, I can bend his ear a little more, then. Bandits set up shop again, terrorizing coaches along the road. They really seem to love that place.”

“They do,” Vilkas said, smiling at her. “Just you and my brother, eh?”

“No!” Red-faced, Lena shook her head and waved her hands. As it had when they were young, his subtext sailed clear over her head. “It’s not…we’re not trying to go off on our own and exclude you. You can come, if you want, but we’d planned it before-“

“No, that’s not…” Vilkas chuckled. He wondered if Lena knew how his brother felt. If she did and didn’t return his affections? He’d best stay out of it. “It’s fine. I’m leaving in a bit to go down to Falkreath. Taking Ria. Some thief hit the jarl’s house. Stole something, and he wants help retrieving it. Won’t tell us what until we’re down there, though, so it’s probably embarrassing. I’ll keep you posted.”

Lena closed her book and traced the symbol on the jacket with her finger. “Vilkas?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you sure? I didn’t blame you, you know. Much. The Dominion - I did live with them for a long time. I survived,” she said, frowning and closing her eyes against memories surging to the surface. “It takes…a lot to survive among the Dominion. I did things-“

Vilkas didn’t want to hear it. Unlike his brother, he wasn’t a caretaker, and preferred not to take on someone else’s skeletons and nightmares. He had plenty of his own. “Farkas touched on that, somewhat,” he said, shaking his head at her widening eyes. “No, not like that. He didn’t tell me anything. Not really. He didn’t break confidence. Only that you’d done things you weren’t proud of. I told you wolves have good senses? We can detect things like that. Lying, guilt, shame…and we smelled it on you. Part of what made us doubt you. But…”

Lena hid her face in her hands, but Vilkas grasped her forearm, shaking it gently. “Whatever you did to avoid torture and death won’t change my mind. I can’t judge you. Honestly? I’m just glad you’re alive, with a second chance at the life you always wanted. And I swear to you, no matter what: I will be there to help.”

 

* * *

 

  
Farkas and Lena rested on the top lookout deck of Valtheim Towers, soaking in the late afternoon sun and watching hawks wheel overhead. Lena took a deep breath and finally broached the subject she’d been tiptoeing around all day. “Farkas?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I should join the Circle? Take the beastblood?”

 _Yes_. Farkas exhaled heavily, and shook his head. He’d been waiting for this since Vilkas’d asked Lena to join the Circle, waiting for her to come to him. And practicing his response. “No, nope. I can’t tell you that. You know the strengths and weaknesses. Only you can make that decision. I can tell you this, though…”

He smiled and pushed a wind-blown hank of hair off his forehead. It wouldn’t hurt to accentuate the positive a little, would it? “You’ll be stronger than you ever thought you could be. You’ll have more confidence. And you’ll be great for the Circle, but that’s just me being selfish.”

Lena sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees, looking down at him. He had a point: making a bargain with a Daedric lord was a personal decision. But, for someone trying to stay impartial, he certainly made a good case for saying yes. “You want me to join?”

“All I want is for you to be happy and to stay alive. Alive first. I’ll feel the same way about you whether or not you take the blood. Never worry about that.”

“I don’t.” Lena smiled, and let her eyes drift over the mountains, pink in the setting sun, and White River below, rushing and sparkling in the fading light. “Farkas, do you ever think about leaving Skyrim? Seeing the rest of the world?”

“No. I’d like to see where you grew up, but knowing what happened to you there makes my blood boil.” He sat up, took out his dagger, and began fidgeting with some fraying stitches on his boots. “There’s beautiful things in the rest of the world, that’s sure. Just like there’s ugly and evil. Skyrim is the same, but it’s home. I’m happy here. You?”

“I don’t want to leave forever, I’d miss all this,” she gestured broadly at the mountains and rivers and frosty-blue sky. “But sometimes when it’s cold and dark, and I can’t escape the wind and the damp…I remember a place in Hammerfell. We used to go there when I was very little. It’s bliss, Farkas. Not a care in the world. People lie on sandy beaches wearing as little as possible, basking in the sun and swimming in warm waters. My dad…I remember him running around after me wearing a hood to keep his Nord skin from burning, and I thought he was pretending to be a monster.” She rested her chin on her knees. “I’d like…I’d like to take you there someday.”

Farkas noticed the catch in her voice and looked over in alarm. Tears rolled down her face. He fumbled with a little pouch attached to his greaves and handed her a wrinkled (but clean) handkerchief.

Lena took it, smiling in thanks and dabbing at her eyes. “My family’s gone, all of them, gone. I know no one can take their place, but…”

“Do you…can you tell me what happened?” Farkas wasn’t sure if he should ask, or if he even wanted to know, but if Lena wanted to talk about it... She'd barely touched on the subject before, but some things needed to be out in the open. Farkas knew that from experience. So did Lena.

He remembered that night, so long ago. Twelve years old, and Lena'd heard Vilkas crying in bed for the first time. They’d hidden it well, between them, but it was only a matter of time. Farkas could still see her hand on the latch as she crept into the room. His chest tightened with fear - what would Vilkas do? He'd probably never talk to either of them again.

But he'd underestimated Lena. And his brother. " _I knew you couldn't be this big of a jackass for no reason_ ," Lena'd said, her green eyes fierce in the candlelight. " _Who hurt you, and who do I have to fucking kill now?"_

Farkas's eyes crinkled as he remembered. They'd stayed up all night, huddled together in Vilkas’s bed, the three of them. Eating pilfered honey-nut treats and making childish plans of revenge. And now Farkas could return the favor. He didn’t have any candy on him, but he could listen.

Lena let out a deep breath, and nodded. “There was a disturbance one night, two years after we were taken. My room was separate from theirs, on a separate hallway. Locked and guarded, of course. I heard slamming and yelling, and that zing of lightning the Thalmor love to throw, and then…silence.” She remembered waking up, sweaty and too scared to do anything but huddle under her blanket. Hearing her mother screaming, and that heart-stopping thud. Lena wondered, still, if she’d ever sleep through the night without hearing that sound in her dreams.

“They – a guard and the justiciar in charge of our facility – called for me, and as I turned down their hallway, I saw them. Dead, burn marks on their bodies. There was another Redguard with them I didn’t recognize. They told me…they…my parents…had been caught trying to escape, that they were planning to leave me. I didn’t believe it. Still don’t. But…”

Farkas watched Lena as she spoke. His own parents were more than likely dead. That was something he’d come to terms with years ago. No memories, but then again, he didn’t remember anything before the necromancer’s cage. Had his four-year-old mind blocked out an experience like Lena’s? He shivered, and tried to stop himself from considering the possibilities.

“I know they were just tired of trying, with my parents. We all resisted, but I’m guessing they decided to cut their losses, and see what they could do with me. I was young, more flexible in my loyalties, they thought,” Lena said, tears still choking her voice. But her eyes were dry. “That night, they told me they’d teach me if I would stop resisting, stop fighting. And…I agreed.”

“That must not have been easy,” Farkas said, driving the tip of his dagger into the deck. “Your parents…”

“My parents made it the easiest thing in the world,” Lena spat, her face stony, her voice full of venom. “I couldn’t beat them as one angry woman; that was getting me nowhere, I'd have ended up like them. So, I…gave up, and did what they wanted. Looked after the others, tried to convince them to just play along. And the Dominion bought it. They trained me. In magic. In warfare. In logic and strategy; I think they're planning to do in Hammerfell exactly what they've done in Skyrim. Use people to destabilize. It kept me going, you know, the thought that one day, their own training would help me kill them all. I could...make up for my part in it.”

A cold smile slid slowly across her face. “On top of that, I’m dragonborn. Those bastards got more than they bargained for this time. They thought they could buy my loyalty, and they’re going to pay.”

Farkas shifted slightly. Vilkas needed to hear this. He’d already made his peace and apologized, but second-guessing himself was a sort of hobby for his brother. Watching Lena’s face as she relived this heartbreak was…excruciating. But compelling. “Have you told anyone else?”

“Kodlak and Vignar, so there would be no surprises. The Dominion is despicable. There’s no limit to what they would do to gain power. None. What they did to me was a garden party compared to…other things I saw.”

“Do you want to t-“

“No,” Lena shook her head. “No. Thanks for offering to listen, but no. You and Vilkas imagined the worst when I was gone, right? So, you already know. Some things just don’t need to be in the light of day, yet.”

Lena sighed and rested her head on Farkas’s shoulder.

“That…that can’t be comfortable.” He laughed and wrapped his arm around her, taking some of her weight off the edge of his plated armor.

“No, it wasn’t. This is, though, being here, with you. And this freedom…this surreal freedom… sometimes I wake up and have to pinch myself. Remind myself that I’m not captive anymore. That I’m exactly where I want to be. My choices, my life, even with the whole dragonborn thing.” She looked up at Farkas and smiled. “And I need to sleep on it, but I think I’m ready to see how strong I can be with both dragon and wolf blood.”

Farkas nodded, and his heart thudded. Her talk of leaving Skyrim made him nervous, but this meant she would stay. _I am a selfish bastard. Hasn’t she already got enough on her plate?_ He shoved those guilty thoughts away and pulled his dagger out of the deck, tucking it back into his boot. “Want to start back? It’ll be dark soon.” Getting rid of all those bandits had taken longer than they’d planned.

“Yeah, and it’s starting to snow. Let’s stay and watch the sunset against the mountains. I think we can take care of ourselves in the dark.”

They sat together until the light faded from pink and gold to purple and indigo. Snow flurried down from the mountains and swirled around them as they watched night fall, in comfortable silence.

Hours later, Lena barely took the time to unbuckle her armor before she fell into her bed, asleep before her head hit the pillow. And the next morning, rested and refreshed, she marveled: no shame from waking up screaming, scolded by Njada’s angry hisses. No sweat soaking her pillow and sheets.

She’d slept without nightmares for the first time in years.

 

 


	8. Of Wolves and Women

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Lena's induction into the Circle, and an unexpected outcome. She, Farkas, and Vilkas plan to get information from the Silver Hand.

Lena lifted her head and opened her eyes, and immediately regretted that decision. The morning sun blinded her. Permanently, she was sure. Cymbals and fireworks…why were there cymbals and fireworks in her head?

A few minutes later the pounding subsided, her vision cleared a bit, and Aela slowly came into view, grinning from atop a nearby rock. Lena wasn’t ready to move yet, and stared up at the sky. Mountains and grass and…why was it so cold? She looked down, and shrieked. “I’m naked! Why am I naked?!”

Aela stood up and tossed a robe that Lena barely caught with her rubbery-feeling arms. “First turning, wake up naked. You’ll get used to it, and you’ll hold on to your clothing and armor, even weapons. When you turn back, you’ll have them, but first turn? Yeah, naked. At least you ended up somewhere semi-private,” she said, motioning around the grassy field behind the underforge. “Farkas lost everyone else and woke up under the Gildergreen his first time. I’m pretty sure there’s a bard in Solitude who still sings about that.”

“That would be worth singing about,” Lena mused, as she slowly sat up. _I’m a werewolf_. She screwed her eyes shut again and pushed off the icy ground, her stomach roiling as she finally stood up. _What did you expect? You made a magical contract with Hircine and let a wolf spirit into your body. Bound to be consequences_. She narrowed her eyes as her brain caught up to Aela’s instruction. “Wait, I hold on to my clothes and armor while I’m running around as a naked wolf? Where? How does that work?”

“Let me get this straight: you can Shout dragonfire, conjure weapons from Oblivion, and your body shifts into that of a wolf whenever you choose, but…it’s magically holding your armor you find unrealistic?” Aela asked, rolling her eyes. “ _Mages_.”

“Point taken,” Lena said. “Um, what happened? I don’t remember…”

“You will,” Aela assured her. “Just give yourself a few minutes to catch up. And after the blood settles, in a week or two, you’ll be in control of yourself when you turn, just like Farkas promised. For now, know you didn’t hurt anyone, and the entire town of Whiterun will be fed for a month on all the goats, deer, and rabbits you took out.”

“Bunnies? I killed bunnies?! Argh. I’m an animal.”

“Very funny,” Aela chuckled, as they walked toward the underforge. “How do you feel? Any different? The first turn is almost like an awakening. So many new sensations. I almost envy you.” Aela smiled as she remembered her first turning, making it to the border of Cyrodiil before the others caught up with her. Kodlak had been so proud; he’d never seen another wolf run so far, so fast. She also had taken down a cave bear with her own claws, and the rug she’d made from the pelt still decorated her bedroom floor.

Lena closed her eyes for a few minutes, breathing in the early morning chill air. “I can hear your heartbeat, that’s weird. Oh, I can smell you,” Lena blushed at the intimacy of it. “Cold night air and…wolf, but I guess that makes sense. And blood, as we get closer to the underforge…the font is still full. I can hear…oh gods, there’s a frostbite spider near the farm. We should tell Farkas, he’ll freak out.” Lena stopped for a minute, staring off into the distance.

“Aela, I think I…when I turned, I remember looking up and seeing stars, and hearing…oh, everything. Fires, windmills, conversations back in town. And there was…a heartbeat in the distance, like ours. But, so big and loud, and it was…I wanted to run to it, and run with it, and let it...what was that?” Lena wrinkled her nose. “And I smelled honey and spices, like Yuletide spices. Cinnamon and clove. And...iron.” She swallowed, the taste of it ripe on the back of her tongue.

Aela bit her lip and looked away. _No. Impossible_. “It could be another werewolf. We recognize each other, even in human form. But, we usually want to stay away from each other when we’re hunting. Give ourselves room. I’m not sure what you felt. I’ll have to give it some thought.” _Damn it, Farkas_. She was going to have to have a talk with her shield-brother.

Lena narrowed her eyes, and sniffed. Farkas was right, she thought; her sense of smell was amazing. Aela was holding something back. But Lena forced herself not to dwell on that. All was right in the world, at least for a little bit. She was a Companion, in the Circle. She was stronger than ever. She had both Farkas and Vilkas in her corner again. Things were, if not looking up, at least heading in the right direction.

Aela paused as they reached the underforge’s back door. “Lena?”

“Yeah?”

“I, um…” Aela forced herself to look Lena in the eye. It was harder than she thought. “I need to apologize. I was wrong-“

“You were wrong about me,” Lena said, and nodded, her jaw clenched. “But you weren’t wrong not to trust me. You didn’t know me. And as much as it hurt, and gods did it hurt…Vilkas was right. I could have been a Dominion plant. I appreciate the thought, I do…but no one else needs to apologize.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Skjor has no intention to.”

Lena grinned, pulling at her back as she walked through the underforge. Why did Farkas enjoy sleeping on the ground so much? She desperately needed a nap.

 

* * *

 

 

“Now I get why there’s a bar in your room,” Lena said, rubbing her temples. “I need a drink and some quiet after last night. Can’t get that upstairs. Doesn’t Torvar ever get tired of talking and…terrible, terrible singing?”

Vilkas watched her curled up on his brother’s bed drinking watered wine, and cursed himself for missing out on the past three months. “Maybe you should have left him in Solitude. He makes a better bard than a fighter, anyway. And that’s saying a lot.”

Lena’d accompanied Athis, Njada, Ria, and Torvar to Solitude to assist the Bards’ College in retrieving some long-lost ancient books. She’d enjoyed the party thrown by the Bards to celebrate, but Torvar kept it going far too long. The journey back to Whiterun that morning on three hours sleep had been a difficult one.

In the meantime, the twins, Aela, and Skjor had been hard at work in the weeks since Lena’d taken the blood. According to a contact of Aela’s, the Silver Hand had been stepping up their efforts to clear Skyrim of werewolves. No one knew why, but from the number of tortured wolves they’d found dead in Hand dungeons, it was clear something was…different. The Hand’s viciousness reached a new level. Vilkas was beginning to agree with Aela – the Hand had to be stopped. Exterminated, if necessary.

Lena sniffed. “Farkas, did you spill mead in here? I smell it everywhere.”

Farkas laughed and leaned back in his chair. He sniffed too, but smelled nothing. “I’m sure between us, we’ve spilled plenty of mead. But not lately.”

He watched Lena and his brother, and marveled at the easy comfort they shared. Crazy, considering not even a month ago, the temperature would drop at least twenty degrees if the two happened to be in the same room. _This is they way things should be. The way they always should have been_.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about Kodlak,” Farkas said, after a few minutes of silence. “I know you just took the beastblood, Lena, but he wants out. I don’t think his search for a cure’s going well. Maybe we could work together. Help him out.”

“I’m not sure how you think we could succeed where the old man hasn’t, but what did you have in mind?” Vilkas watched his brother. Thinking up new problems to solve wasn’t Farkas’s strong suit.

“The Silver Hand.” Farkas held his hands out as Vilkas jumped up from the floor. “I know, it’s dangerous and stupid and probably a long shot. But…the other night, those…what we saw…got me thinking.” Farkas cut his eyes to Lena. She hadn’t gone with them. The rest of the Circle decreed her beastblood not settled enough to face those atrocities. And they were right. “How long have they been…experimenting? Maybe they’re trying to find a cure too. I’m not saying the way they’re going about it is good. It’s far from good, but…they might know something we don’t.”

Lena looked from brother to brother. “Farkas has a point. I think this would be right up their alley.” Lena caught Farkas’s eye and held it. “Besides…two birds…”

Vilkas narrowed his eyes. Farkas and Lena weren’t subtle at all. What were they playing at? “Ok, tell me. What’s going on?”

“You know the Silver Hand attacked us during Lena’s trial, right? But I haven’t told anyone…they knew…they said they knew we would be there. They knew I would be there. Who knew the specifics of Lena’s trial? Just the Circle? Why were they so sure we’d be there? Could there be...” Farkas nearly teared up at the thought. “Could there be a traitor in Jorrvaskr? Or, someone spying on us?”

Vilkas closed his eyes and sat back down. None of the Circle would betray them. But who…? “Lena,” he said suddenly, opening his eyes and standing up again, pacing over to the bar. “Think back. When you found out about your trial – not when Farkas told you, but officially, when Skjor explained what you were supposed to do. Was anyone else there? Close enough to listen? Anything you remember?”

“Let’s see…Skjor was sitting in that chair in the corner, upstairs. I’d just eaten breakfast and was going outside to practice shooting when he called me. I walked over and knelt by his chair, because he was talking sort of quietly, but…oh!” Lena broke off, startled by the memory. Until that moment, she’d thought nothing of it. “Njada! It was only for a minute, but Njada walked by and ran into me. Hit me, really, knocked me down and yelled at me for sitting in the middle of the floor. She…doesn’t like me at all. But…”

“We don’t know much about Njada, aside from her skill and strength with the sword.” Farkas narrowed his eyes. “I asked her the other day why she wasn’t happy about going to Solitude, since that’s where she grew up. She said ‘that place is a dump. You like it so much, you go.’”

Farkas’s impersonation of Njada’s tough attitude had Vilkas and Lena giggling in their cups. “And then she punched Torvar for spilling mead on her plate. Yeah, she can be a bit abrasive, but I don’t get traitor from her. You’d think a traitor would be…nicer, you know? Smoother, maybe?”

“Exactly,” Lena agreed with Farkas. Although she felt strange to be defending Njada. “She doesn’t like me, but she doesn’t hide it well enough. I’d think a traitor would try to keep a low profile, not start a feud with the dragonborn. But…she’s the only one I can place. Maybe talk to her? Maybe she overheard something and mentioned it?”

Vilkas stood up from his barstool and stretched. “That’s my job. I think Njada likes me, anyway. She’s always been nice to me.”

Lena laughed. “You think everyone likes you. Are we fifteen again?”

“I’m not delusional if it’s actually true. I can't help that I'm the better-looking twin.” Vilkas cuffed his brother on the shoulder, and Farkas nodded.

“Sounds fair,” he said. “If it gets me out of jobs like this, I’ll gladly admit you’re the handsome one.”

“And the smart one,” Vilkas added.

“Maybe,” Farkas drawled, “but who’s stuck doing the job?”

Lena rolled her eyes. “Let us know what she says. We can scout the Silver Hand in a few days and see what we can find out. We all need rest, and I need to go to Winterhold tomorrow to learn a couple of new spells I read about in one of the jarl’s books. Might be helpful up at Ustengrav.”

“Doesn’t Farengar know enough to teach you?” Farkas looked alarmed at the prospect of a journey to Winterhold.

 _Nords_. Lena hopped up and walked to the door. She was ready for bed. “He does, but he wants me to work for it,” she said, leaning her head against the wooden frame. “I’m sorry, but I’m not cleaning up his lab at Dragonsreach all day and listening to his condescending chatter. I’d rather go to Winterhold.”

 


	9. Hidden Treasures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farkas, Lena, and Vilkas find something unexpected at a Silver Hand hideout, and Vilkas and Lena catch up on each others' lives. Plans are made to uncover a possible traitor in Jorrvaskr.

“Hey, almost ready?”

Farkas and Lena turned toward the voice calling in the street outside Warmaiden’s. Vilkas, fully armored and carrying a bunch of grapes, trotted up to the covered porch where they waited for Adrianne to sharpen Farkas’s sword. “I finally got a chance to talk to Njada; she’s not stupid. I’ll tell you about it on the way. Grape?” He waved the bunch around, and Lena grabbed a few. “Where are we going anyway?”

“Abandoned fort west of here.” Lena showed Vilkas on her map. “Skjor has the location marked. Plus, it’s next to a silver mine, so good probability.” She turned to the blacksmith, yanking a dagger from her knife belt. “Adrianne, got any Elven arrows? I have this enchanted dagger to trade, scored it off a bandit last week. Farengar tested it - spelled with soul trap.”

“Sure, here you go.” The pretty blacksmith handed Lena a pile of shimmery arrows, and narrowed her eyes just a touch when she shifted her gaze to Vilkas. “What about you? Need anything?”

Vilkas smiled that sweet, indolent smile the brothers had in common, and winked. “Nothing anyone could sell me,” he drawled, and backed away to join Lena and Farkas, already heading for the gate. Vilkas and Adrianne had courted as teenagers, but according to rumor, it didn’t end well. He might well be the more handsome, cleverer twin, but it did not seem to assist him with the ladies. Long term, at least.

“Farkas, sword?” The big warrior smiled and ran back for the greatsword Adrianne held over her head.

“Whoa…you should have someone paint your picture like that, Adrianne,” he said, taking the sword as she lowered it. “It would look great in your shop.”

She smiled and thanked him, turning back to her workbench as the three walked through the gate.

After they were far enough away from the city, Vilkas told them about his conversation with Njada. “So, did you pour on that golden boy charm?” Lena asked, rolling her eyes a little. But, at least someone could get through to the little snot.

“You know it. Njada knows something, and she will tell me. But, as I said, and I’m surprised about this, Njada is smarter than I gave her credit for. She’s leaving for a job in Riften tomorrow, and she’ll only tell me right before she goes.”

Vilkas paused for a moment, adjusting his left bracer with his right hand and his teeth. “The whelps, they know something’s going on. Njada got suspicious when you and Ice-Brain returned from your trial bloodier than expected, and Torvar’s been asking them why only Circle members were allowed to go on last week’s missions. My questions just made it worse. She wants to be gone when whatever she thinks is happening goes down.”

“I suppose that makes sense. If she thinks she’s being excluded,” Lena said, shaking her head with a slight grimace. “But there’s nothing really going on, is there? You all aren’t keeping something from me, are you? I get that my blood’s not settled enough to see what the Silver Hand can do, but-“

“No,” Vilkas said. Not for the first time since Lena’s initiation into the Circle, a twinge of guilt twisted his gut. What had they gotten her into? “Nothing else. Just this weird escalation. We’ve never seen the Hand so…enthusiastic about their task before, that’s all.”

“Hm,” Farkas grunted, his eyes meeting his brother’s for a second. They’d had a rare moment of consensus, having spoken aloud their growing concern for Lena the previous night. She was an exceptionally strong wolf. Her Shouts reflected that strength – the blaze from her dragonfire was nearly three times as powerful as it had been in Dustman’s Cairn.  
  
But, that strength came with a cost no one anticipated: she was bone-tired, all the time. Lena knew the risk and didn’t complain, but Farkas still worried. Even among wolves, Lena’s weariness was unprecedented. Even Kodlak… Farkas pushed the nagging voice from his head and consulted his map. “Well, fort’s that way,” he said, pointing west, “so if we want to get back by dinner, we’d best be off.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lena realized two hallways too late the impossibility of sneaking around in even the darkest space while accompanied by large, heavy-armored men carrying greatswords. Especially when they insisted on rushing into rooms and yelling while they attacked.

Luckily, their clatter seemed to distract the Silver Hand lackeys, leaving Lena free to pick them off from the shadows. At least they only had the mine to clear; the fort had been abandoned years ago with no signs of recent use.

After they finally reached and cleared the mine’s campsite, Lena tried her new healing spell on the twins. She’d been able to heal herself for years, but healing others was a challenge until her last visit to Winterhold. The Restoration master had been a little prickly, but when she discovered Lena’d come to learn a spell from her, and not from another, more popular school of magic, she proved to be an excellent teacher.

Lena approached Farkas with glowing hands, and he flinched, peeking out through squinted eyes as she healed his bicep. “Hey,” he said, opening his eyes and flexing. “Hey! That felt good!”

“What did you think it’d feel like? It’s a healing spell, Ice-“ Lena touched a gash on Vilkas’s thigh, and he let his words trail off. The golden glow surrounded his leg and he groaned, shuddering with pleasure. That reaction alone was funny enough to be worth the trip. Watching him lose his balance and fall into a crate was icing on the cake.

_Nords_. Lena grinned, sauntering off to search the Silver Hand’s chests and trunks.

“Hey,” she said, “come over here. This big chest. I can’t unlock it, can you…”

“Glad to oblige, sister.” A fully-recovered Vilkas tipped his helmet as he bashed the chest in with the hilt of his sword. “Let’s see what we have here…” He pried away the splintered wood and reached in. His back stiffened. “Lena, light please?”

The three Companions looked inside the chest, Lena’s candlelight shining on several broken metal shards. “Wuuthrad,” Farkas said. His voice sounded raspy and harsh. “The missing fragments. How…how did those bastards find these?”

“Well, that’s a mystery for another day,” Vilkas said as he gathered the shards and wrapped them carefully into his pack. “And one mystery solved: how they knew about Dustman’s Cairn.”

Lena nodded. Farkas looked sharply between Lena and his brother. “What? How’s that?”

“Think, man. They have these shards. We ‘heard a rumor’ there was a shard at that crypt. The Silver Hand just happened to be at that crypt, waiting for you. This is how they knew. They planted the damn things.”

Farkas sheathed his sword and smiled, looking hopeful. “So maybe there’s not a traitor at Jorrvaskr after all?”

“Not so fast. Who told Kodlak about the shards in the first place? Where did the rumor come from?” Lena thought aloud, checking the remaining chests for valuables. Aside from a nice gold stash, nothing worth hauling back to Whiterun. “Skjor said nothing about it to me, so I don’t know.”

“Neither do I,” Farkas and Vilkas said together, and Vilkas continued. “Ok, we need to help Njada pack for Riften. And then talk to Kodlak. We can’t put the pieces of the puzzle together without more information.”

Vilkas grabbed Farkas’s forearm and met his hollow eyes. How did his brother keep such faith in people? Always ready to believe the best, despite having seen the worst. “I do hope you’re right and there’s no traitor. I do. I’m just not as optimistic as you are, brother.”

“Neither am I,” Lena said, throwing an arm around Farkas’s shoulders.

Blinking in the bright sun as they left the mine, Vilkas and Lena chattered like thrushes, having months of conversation to make up for. “So tell me, what ended up happening with Adrianne? When I left, she was getting pretty cozy with Ulfberth, but I remember you saying the situation was under control. I’m assuming that was an overestimation on your part? Or maybe just hopeful thinking?”

“That was my fault.” Vilkas huffed and laughed at himself a bit as he recalled his romantic endeavors, such as they were. “She…ah…actually caught me behind the Huntsman with Igren, remember Igren, Farkas? She had just moved to town, and was used to being the prettiest girl around. I wasn’t going to argue with that. We went for a walk one night, and she ended up sitting on a barrel behind the tavern and I, well, I didn’t see Adrianne walk by, for obvious reasons. When Adrianne saw… what she saw, she stalked off toward the smithy, and I ran after her. She pushed me in the creek. The guards laughed. Good times.”

Lena stopped and looked at Vilkas. “If this Igren was so pretty, why did you go after Adrianne?”

“Well, pretty isn’t everything. Adrianne is much more than that. You saw her swinging Farkas’s sword over her head, right?” Vilkas whistled and shook his head slowly. “Ulfberth had been courting her seriously, but she hadn’t made up her mind. Unfortunately, I did it for her.”

Lena smiled and patted Vilkas on the back. “Well, it’s good to know you aren’t always the cleverest in the room. We all make mistakes. When I got back to Dragonstar, there was this boy…”

Farkas listened while Vilkas and Lena talked, comfortable and happy. They’d been this way for weeks. Lena rarely spoke to him anymore. Not that she avoided him, far from it. They spent quiet evenings by the fire, listening to stories and songs or roasting apples wrapped in pastry – Lena’s new favorite food.

But there wasn’t much conversation. And Lena did love to talk.

She and Vilkas talked nonstop during every mission, while training, shopping, or just walking through the village. He’d noticed them under the Gildergreen one day and started down the steps, but changed his mind. Lena’s smile lit up the courtyard, and Vilkas’s was almost as wide. They hadn’t seen him yet, so he walked down to the marketplace instead. Gave them space.

He’d been watching one of their sparring matches yesterday, when Aela made a wager with Skjor. Would Lena and Vilkas get together before Yuletide, or after? “Vilkas has always been fiery,” Aela’d said. “Only a matter of time before that fire turned hot.”

_If this is how things are supposed to be, it’s not so bad. I’ll be happy for them_. And he probably would. He loved them both, and wanted them to be content.

They approached the gate, and Farkas walked through it, determined to cherish his friendship with Lena and expect nothing more. And when a guard asked if someone stole his sweetroll, Farkas took more pleasure than he should have in making the poor kid trip over himself with one intimidating glower.

 

* * *

 

 

Next morning, Njada walked into the greatroom fully packed for Riften. She dropped her pack by the door and sat down next to Vilkas and Lena for breakfast. Vilkas smiled a nervous smile as he looked from Njada to Lena and asked them to pass the sweetrolls.

What did he have to be jittery about? Lena ignored Njada and threw Vilkas a quizzical look. Was this part of the plan?

Njada smiled back, passing the basket and almost visibly preening. “I’m so glad to have Farkas’s company on the way to Riften today. Thank you for agreeing to spare him.”

Lena dropped her fork, and Vilkas laughed. “Anytime, sister. Can’t have you going off to that cesspit alone.” He cut his eyes toward Lena and gave her a ‘just go with it, please’ look, willing her not to ask any questions until Njada was gone.

Farkas was leaving? Lena nodded, stood up, and excused herself.

“Going somewhere? Have some menial task you’re too good for?” Njada grinned, her eyes lighting up as Lena’s face reddened. “What are you going to do with yourself while Farkas isn’t around to do everything for you?”

Lena’s jaw dropped, and she turned to Vilkas, who shook his head and mouthed ‘not now.’ Njada really was too nasty to be the traitor. Vilkas was obviously up to something. Maybe Farkas knew what.

Lena ran into him as he was leaving his room. “Not so fast,” she said as she pushed him back and shut the door. His room was a little messy today. Clothes and gear littered the floor. She looked at him with raised eyebrows. “What’s going on?”

Farkas smiled a little stiffly. “Vilkas will tell you everything once we’re gone. We don’t want to take the chance anyone’s listening in. You two are going on a job this afternoon, clear a bunch of conjurers from around the Standing Stones. That will give you plenty of time. I’m going to Riften with Njada, just in case…”

“You’re…really leaving?” Lena sat limply down on Farkas’s tiny bed and frowned.

Farkas sat next to her, trying to hide his smile. _She doesn’t want me to go_. “She needs protection. And you…and Vilkas need some time to sort things out. You do,” he said, forestalling her protest. He smiled and nudged her leg with his shin guard.

She leaned against him, making his heart ache and his head start to regret his decision to leave. “I’ll be back soon; the job in Riften will be quick. The ‘Thieves Guild’ has been charging business owners ‘protection money,’ and people want something done about it.” Farkas rolled his eyes. Thieves Guild, sure. Extortionists playing in the sewers was more like it.

She huffed, and frowned again. Njada. Maybe she had a point. Maybe Farkas did feel used. “Did you…mind cleaning my armor for me the other day? Did it bother you?”

“I wouldn’t have offered if it bothered me,” Farkas said. In truth, it had bothered him, but not like Lena meant. She’d just gotten back from Winterhold when Jarl Balgruuf summoned her to a council meeting, and her armor was a mess. He offered to clean it so she could go to bed after the meeting. One look at her told him she was close to exhaustion.

Athis and Torvar caught him at it, though, and teased him. “Lena’s got you cleaning her armor? That’s friend zone material there,” Torvar said, slapping Athis on the back, both of them roaring with laughter.

He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but he assigned them all the practice gear to clean before dinner. There were perks to a high rank.

“Friend zone,” he grumbled under his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” he said, sighing. “Why do you ask? About the armor, I mean?”

“Njada said I used you, just now. Made you do things I didn’t want to do. Do you think-“

“She’s awful, you know it. Besides,” he said, turning to look at her face. Her eyes were still tired. Shadowed. Not like after she’d escaped Helgen, but…he worried. “I can’t very well explain that you’re super tired because you’re a werewolf, now can I? You would have cleaned your own gear if you’d had time and energy. I know it, and you do, too. Don’t let her rile you up.”

Lena nodded, and they both moved to stand at the same time. The bed creaked alarmingly. “Farkas,” Lena began, shaking her head with amusement, “why do you have such a little bed? It’s not even as big as you are.”

Farkas shrugged and shouldered his backpack. “Well, it’s just me, and I curl up when I sleep.”

Lena just stared at him for a moment, sighed, and walked to the hallway. “Your room still smells like you spilled honey everywhere, or cake. That’s how you get ants, you know. Mind if I ask Tilma to doublecheck and make sure?”

 


	10. Of Wolves and Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vilkas explains the plan to catch the traitor red-handed. Vilkas tries to make Lena understand something about Farkas, and about herself. Aela confesses to Lena that taking the beastblood had unintended consequences.

“Farkas wouldn’t tell me what Njada said before they left. Said to talk to you about it during our mission today.” Lena nocked another arrow and fired at the practice dummy from her post-roll crouch. The workout had dulled some of her irritation at Farkas leaving with Njada, but she still needed information. Why hadn’t she been in on the plan?

“That’s a new trick,” Vilkas marveled. “I’ve never seen the like from a human before. Wood elves, maybe, but…” He shook his head and whistled.

“Yes, you found out how useful my roll can be during our ‘training,’ didn’t you?” Lena said sweetly. “Ready to go?”

As they walked to the gate, Vilkas recounted his conversation with Njada. He’d not gotten far when one of the guards, apropos of nothing, crossed his arms over his chest and addressed them. “My cousin is out there fighting dragons. What do I get? Guard duty,” he said, pouting.

Vilkas nudged Lena and clapped the guard on his shoulder. “Hey, man. My shield sister and I are heading out to fight some renegade mages. If you’re looking for some action, come with us!” He grinned as the guard stammered out an excuse. “Next time, then.”

When he’d finally stopped laughing after they’d passed the gatehouse, Vilkas continued with his story. “Now where was I,” he mused, and recoiled at the look on Lena’s face. “What? Did I say something? Those guards…”

“Let me get this straight,” Lena said, disgust and anger coloring her face a shadowy, dark red. “Njada didn’t like Farkas supervising my trial, so she complained to Torvar about it? Why?” Lena was rapidly losing patience with Njada. When she and Farkas got back from Riften, there were going to be some changes.

“That…was your takeaway from our conversation? I think you’re missing the point here –“

“No, how is that any of her business? I’m sick of being treated like a pariah or…an outsider by almost everyone since I returned to Skyrim.” Lena threw her hands up as she yelled.

Vilkas rolled his eyes and let her continue to rant. Gods knew she’d held it in long enough.

“I was kidnapped, imprisoned, my family killed, almost beheaded, forced to kill a dragon, and the only reason I’m not dead right now is because I actually can kill the bastards –“

“And because Farkas would have killed the damned Imperials first,” Vilkas added, giving credit where credit was due. “You know, I did apologize for being an ass. I apologize again, and-“

“I know, it’s fine.”

“It’s really not. I was a giant ass, but…do you know how many people we’ve lost over the years? So many funerals. I’ve never known my family other than Farkas, and you were the closest thing to a sister I had. To open myself up to you again only to have you…well, you know what my concerns were. And they were legitimate,” he said, wagging his finger around, “but even so, it wasn’t your fault. I should have considered your feelings first. And I’m truly sorry Njada’s giving you such a hard time. You have enough to worry about without her meddling.”

"When we were kids, it took forever to get you to believe I was your friend, and not just out to take your brother away. I think it's more than people leaving. I-I think-" Lena stammered at Vilkas's warning look and tabled what she'd wanted to say. "People want to love you, Vilkas. You should let them. If another Adrianne comes along, I want you to be ready, that's all."

"We have a traitor in our midst and dragons terrorizing the country, and you want me to find a girlfriend? Wow, Lena. Priorities."

Lena walked in silence for a few minutes. “If it weren’t for Farkas, I would have lost my mind, with the whole dragonborn thing. I still might.”

“No, not you,” Vilkas said, twirling his dagger as he walked. Lena’d ventured into dangerous territory there for a moment, and thank the gods she’d not pressed. There was nothing wrong with his relationship status, thanks. He could find a willing woman…well, anywhere. But who had the time?

“Anyway, yes,” Vilkas continued, once he was sure Lena was back on task, “Njada was mad because Farkas went with you. Farkas doesn’t go on trials; it’s usually me, and I have, let’s say, high expectations of whelps. Njada was not happy with my assessment of her trial. She did fine, but there was lots of room for improvement, and when Farkas came back practically glowing out his ears at your accomplishments…well, she’s jealous. And I’m pretty sure she wants Farkas in her bed.”

“What?!”

Vilkas looked up at Lena’s shout. And turned around to find her stock still, five paces back, right hand clenched over the hilt of her sword. Vilkas put his dagger away and smirked. “I see you have a problem with that?”

“Yes, I do,” Lena tossed her braid off her shoulder. “Does she really think I got preferential treatment? Because of Farkas? And she wants to sleep…with Farkas?!”

“So…which are you more upset about?” The smirk grew into a huge, face-eating grin. _I knew it_.

“Well, obviously…” Lena huffed. “Hey, Farkas is like my brother, and I-“

"Farkas _is_ my brother, and it doesn’t bother me who he sleeps with. Should sleep with people more often, in my humble opinion.”

Lena stewed for a minute or two, grumbling incoherently. Vilkas picked up ‘Njada,’ ‘Farkas,’ and ‘bed,’ and laughed quietly to himself. _She doesn’t know. Gods help them both_.

“Ok, whoa…back up,” Lena said, her eyes round as septims. “You said I was missing the point about Njada telling Torvar- oh my gods, Njada told Torvar…” She cocked her head to the side, confused. “Torvar? Really??”

“Yeah…Farkas was only slightly slower on the uptake.” Vilkas snorted. “Last person you’d expect, right? Desperate to please, weirdly friendly, always drinking… Clever of him, really, the drunkenness to cover up all the lying. And that explains why there were so many at Dustman’s Cairn – you counted twenty, I think you said? Farkas is the strongest of us all. If the draugr hadn’t taken out so many of them on their way to plant the shard, the plan might have worked. Our strongest wolf, gone.”

Lena took stock of the missions she’d completed with Torvar, and the times they’d gone drinking together. All those questions he asked about Farkas and Vilkas and growing up in Jorrvaskr made sense now. How long had he been planning this? How many missions had been engineered by the Silver Hand?

“He’s been stirring up dissent about the Circle going on secret missions, too,” she said, casting her memory back, trying to think of anything helpful. “Ria mentioned something last week about the Circle getting all the good assignments while everyone else was stuck hunting and taking out the occasional bandit, but I didn’t-“

“You still haven’t told them you’re in the Circle,” Vilkas said, looking over at her. “Njada’s really gotten to you, hasn’t she?”

“I’m only human, Vilkas,” Lena shrugged. She’d tried not to let Njada’s bullying bother her, but it got under her skin. Being hated was no fun. “They don’t understand my history with you and Farkas and Kodlak, and…try to see it from their point of view. It’s too soon for me to be in the Circle. I still sleep in the whelps’ dorm, I should still be a whelp, as far as they’re concerned.”

“You should have your own room. If Skjor and Aela would just…come clean already. But they’re both too damned independent for their own good. Kodlak said-“

“What did Kodlak say about the Torvar mess? You told him, right?”

“He...” Vilkas’s face grew solemn as he remembered his mentor’s reaction to the news of a traitor in Jorrvaskr. “Lena, I’ve never seen the old man so angry. He’s not often fooled, but Torvar’s drunk act fooled everyone. And the Wuuthrad rumor? Kodlak never told us who gave him the information about the shards’ possible locations because it was a mage. A mage Torvar ‘met at the tavern.’ Of course Kodlak wouldn’t talk about that. Nobody trusts a mage.”

Lena cleared her throat noisily, and Vilkas inclined his head, “present company excluded, of course. Aela will be leaving for Riften tomorrow. There might be some…stealth involved here, and as you know, Farkas and I generally avoid stealth, but to catch a fox, we don’t have a choice.”

“You mean,” Lena said, mouth hanging open, “Njada is bait? How… did you let Torvar ‘overhear’ your discussion with Njada this morning? He knows you’re suspicious?”

“Right in one. We did, leaving out the part where Farkas is going with Njada, of course. Not that Njada is a soft target, but she’s definitely an easier one than my brother. Njada did well,” Vilkas admitted, begrudgingly.

“Did you know Torvar grew up in Riften? He worked in the stables before he darkened our door. Someone may remember his acquaintances. Njada offered to ‘investigate’ for us. Really laid it on thick.” Vilkas pulled his dagger back out, twirling it on his palm. “We think it scared him. He left on ‘urgent personal business’ a little while later. We’re hoping he’ll follow them to Riften and make his move there, but if he attacks on the road, Farkas can handle it.”

“What about me?” Lena didn’t want to admit it, but being left out of the plan hurt. She expected to be snubbed by Njada, but… “Why didn’t-”

“Oh, no, no, no…” Vilkas cut her off. “You’re a member of the Circle, we trust you, don’t worry about that. It’s just that we met late, last night, and when Farkas went to look for you, he…”

"He found me asleep in the underforge, didn’t he?” Lena said, embarrassment staining her cheeks pink. “I wondered who left me that blanket and pillow.”

“Yeah…you’ve been so tired lately, getting used to the blood…and after all that time practicing Shouts, you needed sleep. And…you’re leaving for Ustengrav soon, anyway,” Vilkas added. “We didn’t want you to feel like you couldn’t leave. Everyone heard the Greybeards call, we know what’s at stake.”

Lena nodded, feeling better. The thought that the three people she loved most in the world didn’t need or want her around was a heavy one. “And Aela…”

“Is actually investigating. We need to get hard evidence if Torvar doesn’t decide to attack at all, and we need to know who else is involved. Otherwise, we’d just take care of him right now,” Vilkas said, balancing the hilt of his dagger on his palm. “You know…Farkas and Njada did go to Riften. Maybe she’ll put on an Amulet of- oof!” Vilkas caught the apple Lena aimed at his head and took a bite. He didn’t throw it back.

 

* * *

 

 

After defeating the hedge conjurers outside the Standing Stones and hauling their unconscious forms to Dragonsreach, Vilkas and Lena returned to Jorrvaskr; Vilkas to train with Ria and Athis, and Lena to practice Shouting in the underforge away from other people.

It was difficult to focus with so much going on, but a few hours later, she could make the font shake using Unrelenting Force, and her name was now written in scorch marks on the back wall. It was a nice touch.

Lena went out through the back door, intending to practice her sprinting, but a breeze shaking the trees at the edge of the forest caught her eye. She walked to the cliffs and leaned over the rock wall, breathing deeply.

What had she smelled that night? And heard - that wild heartbeat. Intoxicating, yet alarming, it had been like a tug at her heart ever since. Was it the meadery? That would explain the honey smell. Had there been a battle somewhere close by? That would explain the iron, and the blood. She closed her eyes and-

“It’s not going to happen right now, so don’t try to force it,” Aela walked up behind Lena. _She’s been thinking about it. Good_.

“Sweet Talos!” Lena exclaimed, jumping around to face the huntress. “Could you not?”

Aela laughed. “Your senses need to sharpen up, cub. Although, I have to admit, when I was going through what you are now, I wouldn’t have noticed my current level of sneakiness, either. I suppose we have you to thank for the decorations back there? Nice.”

Lena narrowed her eyes and stood up straighter. “I thought so. You were holding something back, the morning after I turned. I wondered, I could smell it on you. _Ugh_ , and that still sounds weird. Will I ever get used to that?”

“Yes, you will. And I’ll tell you what’s going on, but you’re probably not going to like it. I didn’t, when it happened to me, and I had time to process the change. Skjor didn’t join the Companions until I was already in the Circle, so it wasn’t such a shock for me.”

“What does Skjor have to do with anything?”

“Look, there’s no easy way to say this. What you were feeling, hearing, smelling that night…that’s your mate. Blood calling to blood,” Aela said, raising her left eyebrow and biting her lip. She’d been outraged when magic had turned simple, playful, and affectionate feelings toward a fellow Companion into a whirlwind of need and devotion she’d not wanted. It had taken Aela months to accept Skjor as her mate. And she’d never regretted it, but the lack of control still rankled.

Lena’d never seen Aela look this uncomfortable before. No wonder, she was spouting gobbledygook. “Wait…you mean…what, Skjor’s your mate? We all knew you two were close, but…no, that makes no sense. People don’t have ‘mates.’ People get married, sometimes for love, sometimes for power, but it’s not…and I don’t have a mate. I’m not even…” Lena broke off and covered her mouth with a splayed, shaking hand. _I’m not even_...

“In love with anyone? You sure about that?” Aela asked, unusually sympathetic. “Your wolf knows before you do…instinct. And yes, me and Skjor. There’s no one else for me, never has been, never will. Humans with beastblood are different from ‘normal’ humans, you know this. This is one of the ways.”

“Do I not even have a choice? What if it’s…? Do you know who he is?”

Aela pursed her lips, deciding to be honest, but give no extraneous information. She’d find out for herself soon enough. “No, I don’t know who he is. We’re not the only wolves in the Hold. I just wanted you to know before you encountered him at closer range because when you do, and you’re turned, the mating bond will be almost irresistible. But I suppose you have a choice,” Aela said. _The hardest choice I ever made_. She’d tried that route at first, and it was a dismal failure.

“You’ll always feel a pull towards your mate, but you do not have to choose to be with him. I know werewolves who don’t like their mates, aside from the attraction, and they get together a few times a year to scratch the itch, so to speak, but they live separate lives. Sometimes it’s fine. Most of the time, it’s not.”

Lena took a deep breath, trying to soothe her knotted gut. She’d have to process everything later. Maybe she’d get used to the idea. _But who_ … “Thanks for the info. Although, this might have been one of those things I should have known before, yeah? I knew I was signing away restful sleep and my afterlife, but I had no idea I wouldn’t be able to choose who I loved.”

“You’re right about that. Why did you agree to be part of the eternal hunt, anyway?” Of all the conditions to the beastblood, this was the simplest for Aela to accept. Why would she not want to hunt forever? It had always been in her blood. But most people, Nords especially, found the loss of Sovngarde difficult to bear.

“Pshhh…I’m a Redguard/Nord combo, taught by Redguards, Nords, and Altmer. Everyone believes something different, so who knows what the truth is? I’ve seen what Hircine can do, but Sovngarde and the rest? I’m into living for the here and now, and just now, I need to be as strong as possible. It’s working out pretty well. Except for the whole ‘mating’ concept, that is.” Lena gave Aela a hard look.

“I’m sorry, you’re right. We thought you knew. When Farkas said he told you everything, we thought he meant _everything_. In his defense, he left this out because he didn’t believe it was real; Skjor and I keep our lives a little too private, apparently.”

“Farkas?” The knots in Lena’s stomach pulled even tighter. “Did you tell Farkas what happened?”

“No!” Aela laughed. “Can you imagine how awful Farkas would feel if I told him? That you mated and he didn’t tell you it was a possibility? It would be like kicking a puppy. No, he’ll find out when it’s out in the open, like everyone else.”

“I did ask him if he’d told you about mating. Hypothetically speaking, of course,” Aela explained. “He blushed. Blushed! And asked why he’d tell you about something that wasn’t real. Anyway, it doesn’t happen to everyone. Kodlak never mated, and Vilkas and Farkas haven’t, yet. I’m…surprised it happened this quickly. I was around Skjor in and out of wolf form for a while before we felt anything. We just didn’t think, and I’m sorry for that. For what it’s worth, when you find out who it is, I hope he’s worthy of you.”

Lena didn’t like the idea of Farkas finding a mate. That big heart beating for someone who loved him…that smile warming someone else’s day. Not knowing what to say, Lena turned toward the mountain in the distance and let out a Shout that shook the snow from the trees and echoed for miles. “Whoever he is, I hope he’s ok with being mind-controlled into mating with a Dominion-trained mage – slash - dragon killer. Maybe he won’t be a Nord,” she grumbled, as she started to walk off toward Jorrvaskr.

“I wouldn’t bet on it,” mumbled Aela. 

 

 


	11. Arrow Flight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena meets Delphine, who is not as unpleasant, you guys, as she is in the game. Farkas is shocked at something he realizes after they deal with a great deal of trouble at Jorrvaskr.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Vilkas helped Lena strap her quiver alongside her pack, but kept trying to convince her to stay. “A letter might be on its way from Aela. Farkas will be back in a few days, and you know he wanted to go with you, even if he can’t enter the barrow.”

“Vilkas. We already covered this. It’s been a week. I’m no help to anyone sitting around, and I’ve procrastinated long enough. The dragons are getting stronger, and I only know three Shouts.”

“But Hjaalmarch is dangerous, and likely frozen by now-“

“I need to do this alone. I’ve told you Arngeir thinks of this as some sort of test, and if I take Farkas, the Greybeards might refuse to teach me,” she said, surprised at how attractive that sounded. “Which, yay for me, but I don’t think everyone else will feel the same way.”

“And,” Lena continued, scrubbing her face with her hands. She was already tired. This journey wasn’t starting on a high note. At least she could sleep in the wagon. “Njada may have a point. A small one in her otherwise pointless…”

“Why,” Vilkas began, rolling his eyes, “why are you letting her into your head?”

“She’s right, Vilkas. I depend too much on Farkas. No, I’m not using him as a pack mule, like she implied, but…”

Vilkas tried to keep from grinning. _These idiots_. “But, what?”

“He’s gone, and I’ve just felt like sitting around all week. Doing nothing,” Lena said, her mouth and eyes tipped down. She felt gloomy…lonely. _Ridiculous_. “I shouldn’t begrudge him leaving on a mission. Even if he did go with Njada. It’s been months, Vilkas, I should be adjusted to all this. I have a place here. I belong. He’s…”

She straightened her pack and forced herself to smile. “I’m going. I’ll be fine. See you in a few days.”

Vilkas sighed. He might have to resort to devious measures when Lena and Farkas both returned to Jorrvaskr. “You are unbelievably hard headed.”

“Let’s hope so, I’m bound to get hit. A lot.” Lena kissed Vilkas’s cheek. “Thanks for looking out for me, brother.” She hooked her bow next to her quiver and ran off to the stables to catch the wagon to Morthal.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Lena walked back to Morthal from Ustengrav, she was ready to collapse, and fighting mad: a dangerous combination for anyone, especially a werewolf/dragon/woman hybrid. Someone had stolen the Horn and left a cryptic note in its place.

After hours of fighting through the trap-and-draugr-infested barrow only to come up empty-handed, rage simmered in her chest like dragonfire, threatening to erupt as she loaded the wagon.

On the bright side, loot from Ustengrav filled her pack and another small bag. She may have failed her test, but by the gods, that Elven armor she’d seen Adrianne designing would be hers. The thought of it cooled her anger a bit. Just a bit.

The driver whistled as a golden circlet rolled out onto the wooden slats of the wagon. _Like what you see, eh_? Lena picked up an ornately-carved staff and waved it around. His eyes followed its shimmering blue finial. _Oh, yeah. That’ll work_.

“I know you only go as far as Whiterun stables, but could you please take me to Riverwood first, and then back to Whiterun after I run an errand? I’m exhausted, and I will pay you well. See this staff? It’s spelled with telekinesis. I could probably get 800 gold from the Jarl’s mage for it. That is how desperate I am to continue sleeping, yeah?”

He grasped the staff, and nodded, running around to the driver’s box.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lena said, yawning and climbing in the back. She’d almost given into the soporific rhythms of the coach when a question floated to the forefront of her mind. Just for a moment, but it was enough to rekindle a spark of fury: how did the thief steal that horn without disabling all the traps and killing all the monsters in Ustengrav? If she managed to make it through the confrontation without setting the thief on fire, maybe she’d remember to ask.

By mid-afternoon, Lena was awake and walking through the door of the Sleeping Giant Inn. She glanced around and saw a fit-looking woman sweeping the floor, and a man behind the counter asleep next to a bowl of stew. Lena approached the woman and did as the cryptic note bid. “I’d like to rent the attic room, please.”

The woman leaned on her broom and flipped a chocolate-colored braid over her shoulder. “A visitor, eh?” She looked Lena up and down. “We don’t actually have an attic here, but if you’d like a room, it’s clean, and the bed’s comfy. If you need anything, I’m Delphine.”

No attic room. Fantastic. Was this whole thing a trick? Lena wasn’t sure what to do, but she took the key. Maybe she could think better behind closed doors. “What’s your name if I don’t need anything,” she grumbled under her breath.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Lena said, anger and frustration building up again.

Lena cautiously opened the door to the room. Nothing out of the ordinary: bed, dresser, wardrobe. She sat down on the bed and tried to think of her next steps. Should she go back to High Hrothgar and explain? Or just forget the whole thing and go back to Whiterun? Maybe it was all a joke anyway. Did she really think she could fight dragons on her own?

She was just about to give up and return to the wagon when the bedroom door creaked open. Lena grabbed her dagger, but it was only the overly-helpful Delphine. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to meet you. Here is my token, and peace offering.” Delphine handed her the…Horn.

The anger Lena’d kept under control all day finally bubbled over. “What in Oblivion is this? Why do you have this? Do you have ANY idea how much of my time you’ve wasted? This isn’t my only-“ Lena broke off when she noticed Delphine stepping slowly backwards and reaching for something behind her back. “What are you doing?”

“Are you ok? Your face…” she paused and looked at Lena, her brown eyes narrowed above sharp cheekbones. “Never mind, it must have been a trick of the candlelight. Look, I know you’re angry, but would you come with me? I swear, it will be worth your while.”

Lena huffed. Delphine was relatively petite for all her confidence. If it came to it, Lena could take her. “Well, since I’m here. But try anything, and I promise you, you won’t leave the room without assistance. I’m in no mood.”

Delphine took a key out of her bodice and unlocked the wardrobe. After pushing something out of the way, she stepped inside. “Follow me, please.”

Lena drew her dagger and followed Delphine down a flight of stairs into a dusty-smelling basement covered in swords and maps. She left the false door open in case she needed to beat a hasty retreat. “Ok, what is this? Start explaining. Do you know how far Ustengrav is from here? I’ve been gone from Whiterun for days, and I have things to do there. People who depend on me. Tell me what is going on, and do not lie.”

Delphine wound her dark braid into a knot at the back of her neck, and leaned over a central table covered with a huge map of Skyrim. “It was the best way to get to talk to you, and believe me, it wasn’t fun for me either. No one was sure who you were or where you were, but I knew those dusty monks would eventually send you for that little beauty.” Delphine turned to face Lena. “And no, I won’t lie, but I can’t tell you the whole truth, not yet. Not until I find out if you really are dragonborn.”

“Want me to show you?” Lena summoned the fire and felt the space behind her eyes sizzle. She had no idea how Delphine knew about the Greybeards’ test, but these games were getting old.

“Ulfric Stormcloak could use The Voice. There’s only one way to prove you’re dragonborn. I need to see you kill a dragon and take its soul.”

Lena huffed and started walking toward the stairs. “Well, you have a good night.”

“I know what’s happening with the dragons,” Delphine said, desperation creeping into her voice. “They’re not just opening a door and whooshing in from whatever dimension they came from. I’ve seen the open barrows; they’re coming back to life. If you really are dragonborn, you need to see this just as much as I need to see what you can do.”

Lena stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned around. “How do you know this?”

Delphine laughed. “Farengar is stingy with information, but he does love free help. Amazing what you can pick up when he doesn’t think you know how to read.” Her eyebrows rose at the shocked, murderous look on Lena’s face. “Relax, he doesn’t understand this. He’s a court mage who never leaves his palace. I figured it out from some old texts and that Dragonstone you gave him. He’s not withholding. He just doesn’t understand that other people might be cleverer than he is.”

"I know someone like that.” Lena relaxed and walked over to the table, as Delphine tapped a location that looked to be in Eastmarch.

“Kynesgrove. That’s where I believe the next dragon will rise. If you can take his soul, I will tell you anything you want to know.”

“I’ll do it,” Lena said. She had to know more, and the Greybeards weren’t eager to share information. What did she have to lose? “But I can’t go now. I have to go back to Whiterun. Give me a week, maybe two, and I’ll meet you there.”

Delphine shook her head. “We don’t have much time here. If this dragon is already awake, what then?”

“We’ll deal with whatever happens. You might have acted with the best of intentions, but you’ve still wasted too much of my time. If I hadn’t had to trek all the way to Ustengrav and back, I might have been able to start for Kynesgrove now. As it is...I’ll send a courier when I’m ready.”

Lena mounted the stairs leading back to the inn, but a thought popped into her mind, and she turned back. “And Delphine?”

“Yes?”

“Please keep…who I am…to yourself. I have no interest being a pawn in the Civil War, or in anyone else’s game,” Lena said, gripping the stairwell with white-knuckled fingers.

She nodded, her chin lifted just a touch. “If you are who I think you are, we’ll be keeping many secrets. That one is safe with me, I swear it.”

 

* * *

  
  
Farkas was looking forward to seeing Lena and taking a warm bath when he got back to Jorrvaskr, and not necessarily in that order. The official mission in Riften was a success, but dealing with the Thieves Guild and the Black-Briars always made him feel dirty, and not just because Riften was built on a stagnant swamp.

The not-so-official mission, however, had been a bust. No sign of Torvar in Riften or on the road. Njada chattered so much that his head hurt, and Farkas caught her spilling mead on his bedroll. On purpose. He had no idea why, but sleeping in a wet, sticky bedroll the previous night had done nothing good for his disposition.

_Gods, it’s good to be home_. But his relief was short lived. He opened the door and dodged as an arrow thwacked into it, not six inches from his face. A silver arrow. Farkas drew his sword and looked around quickly, before the archer could nock another one.

Skjor, Athis, and several other whelps fought at at least ten Silver Hand in the greatroom. Lena…where was Lena? And his brother? He swung his greatsword. Nine. “Vilkas! Lena!”

“Thank the gods. Here, brother,” Vilkas shouted from the eastern bedrooms as he took down one of the remaining Silver Hand. “I don’t know where Kodlak is. Vignar… Ria’s hurt.”

Farkas didn’t see Lena, and wondered why Vilkas didn’t mention her. Was she…? He pushed the thought from his mind, cutting down three more fighters on his way to the stairs. “Kodlak!” He yelled for the Harbinger, his sword slicing through the archer who almost shot his face on the way in.

After the clamor upstairs, the living quarters seemed strangely quiet. Farkas ran down to Kodlak’s rooms. Empty, but… he felt a strange tug, like a rope pulling him back. _Is this magic_? No. It felt like…yes. His wolf, pulling him toward his quarry during a hunt. But...yearning, wistful, rather than hungry and blooded. He sniffed. Was something on fire?

Finding nothing in the Harbinger’s quarters, he ran back out to the hallway. A Silver Hand stood near the door to Farkas’s room, holding a dagger to Kodlak’s throat.

“Make one move, dog, and your master dies.”

Kodlak coughed and gasped for breath, fixing Farkas with a steely gaze. “I am...no one’s master.”

Farkas took a tentative step forward, and the fighter tightened his hold on the dagger. A drop of blood spurted into Kodlak’s gray hair. Just as Farkas was about to take his chances and charge, he saw a bluish-silver glow behind the assassin.

The Silver Hand dropped like a stone, an arrow protruding from his neck. Farkas rushed forward to catch Kodlak just as he fell.

Farkas looked up from Kodlak’s gray face to find Lena standing six paces away, bow in hand, and fire flashing in her eyes. A puzzle piece clicked into place, and his heart pounded. “Lena...you,” Farkas’s eyes widened, and then he faltered, peering into her eyes. “Lena…your face. Are you ok?”

Lena knelt and checked Kodlak’s pulse. “He’s alive, but looks like they roughed him up. Needs a healing potion. Be right back.”

She ran back to Farkas’s room, grabbed a potion, and within minutes, Kodlak’s skin was back to its normal color, and he was asleep. “Help me put him to bed?”

Farkas nodded, keeping his eyes on Lena as he reached down and picked up the old man. She pulled back the covers from the bed, and together, they lay him on his pillows to rest and heal.

They walked out into the hallway, quietly, and stared at each other. “What –“ they both began. Farkas shook his head, his hands clenched at his sides. He wanted to take her in his arms. Tackle her to the floor. What was wrong with him? “I just got back from Riften and the arrows were already flying. We’ll need to talk to Vilkas for answers.”

“Why did you say ‘your face’ to me, back there?” Delphine had said something about her face, too. She hadn’t seen herself in a glass in days. “What’s wrong with my face?”

Farkas cleared his throat. “Well, it was sort of…on fire. Behind your eyes, I mean. Looked scary.”

Lena took a deep breath and laughed. “Maybe my inner dragon knows when I’m angry.” She leaned closer to him and sniffed. “Farkas, why do you always smell like a meadery?”

"You’re not imagining things this time,” he chuckled and stretched, hands almost brushing the ceiling. “Gods, I need a bath.”

 


	12. Bubbling to the Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Companions hide their grief in the aftermath of the assault on Jorrvaskr. Lena discovers a side of her relationship with Farkas she never thought to explore, and Farkas doesn't understand when women are hitting on him.

Vignar Gray-Mane was the only major casualty of the Silver Hand attack. The assassins had caught him as he was walking out the door to see the courier, and he’d been able to give a mighty yell, alerting all of Jorrvaskr before he died. Ria and Athis and the rest of the newbloods were fine after a couple of strong healing potions, and Njada escaped the fight completely, as she had gone directly to the baths upon arrival from Riften.  The funeral for Vignar would be Lena’s first. There had been none for her parents, of course, and Lena was dreading this one, for more than the obvious reasons. The twins were in shock, Vignar having been the only father they’d ever known. 

“We will lay Vignar to rest when Aela returns,” Kodlak announced in the great room, his voice shaking, but his eyes full of fire. “Everyone who defended Jorrvaskr against these…assassins…thank you. You all acquitted yourselves with honor, and I am proud. For those of you who do not know, Torvar was killed by one of his own during the battle.  Apparently, no one trusts a double agent. We will hopefully know more, again, when Aela returns. ”

Njada stood, glaring at everyone. “Does anyone know why Torvar wanted us all dead? There’s been something…wrong…for a while. Secret missions, getting surprised by ‘bandits’ while clearing out caves, and now…is this part of it?” She lashed out, cursing herself for missing the battle, for not taking part in her home’s defense. She’d been so upset with Farkas, she headed for the one place that would almost certainly be deserted, and had heard nothing.

“The Companions have been defending Skyrim since the time of Ysgramor, for thousands of years.  It is possible we’ve garnered more than a few enemies during that time. As for Torvar’s motivation, Aela is looking for answers now.  We will know more,” Kodlak repeated, “when she returns. For now, we should assign watch and try to rest and recover. If anyone needs anything, I have many, many letters to write tonight, and will be in my room. I will see you all in the morning.”

Njada leaned forward to brace on the back of her chair.  “I really do need a drink.  Away from here.  Anyone interested?” She walked toward the door, and Ria and Athis followed. 

As everyone filed out and the greatroom grew quiet, grief began to settle like falling snow around Jorrvaskr. Vilkas could barely look at Farkas and Lena. “So…”

Lena stood up before he could continue. “We all need baths, and we need to drink and talk. Preferably in that order.  I also need to write a letter and get it into the…” Lena’s voice broke as she remembered that Vignar always collected the post. “Get it to a courier. Let’s meet in Farkas’s room in an hour?”

The twins stood, and Farkas looked at her through tears, blood, and smeared warpaint, and nodded wearily.

 

* * *

 

In Lena’s opinion, the best thing about Jorrvaskr was the small chamber beneath the veranda containing a waist-deep, slow flowing spring.  Some time in the past, an undoubtedly sinister mage had created a submersible boiler out of fire salts and had used it, according to campfire tales, to sink ships by burning through their hulls. The Companions, having acquired this device when they captured the mage outside Windhelm, put it to work the only way that made sense to them. As a heater for their baths. Of course. 

And it was a perfect underutilization of power, Lena thought, watching the steam rise from the water and run down the sloped ceiling, as she sank under the bath’s silky waters. After a moment, she broke the surface, feeling the blood, sweat, and tears of the day slipping off into nothingness.  She had so much to tell the brothers, but she’d think about that in just a little while…

Lena heard the door creak open, and it jolted her out of her doze. She was sure the twins had beaten her to the baths, since she’d had that letter to write.  But no, Lena heard the sound of feet padding over to the side customarily used by the men of the Companions.  There was no official division, just a handy rock outgrowth shielding those desiring privacy. Lena swam up to the corner and peeked around, just in time to see Farkas wade hip-deep into the fiery waters, dancing light from surrounding iron braziers turning his skin to a shadowy bronze.  

He does seem to get bigger every day, she thought.  And acquire more scars, she mused, watching him lather a cloth and begin washing the smeared warpaint from his face and the travel dust and blood of battle from his body.  Every water droplet seemed to shimmer in the glow of the cavern, and magnify Farkas’s dark and rugged beauty.  Each scar, a story.  Each muscle, a work of art.  Lena closed her eyes…

She felt her blood warm and pulse throughout her body, and smelled that familiar honey-spice and iron scent. She felt the slow ripples in the water lap at his hips and then surround him as he went under.

When she opened her eyes, he was sitting on one of the submerged benches, one arm slung over his face, and … no sign he knew she was there, or felt her presence as intensely as she felt his. She crept back to her side of the bath, closed her eyes again, and waited for him to leave.

 

* * *

 

 

Vilkas and Lena sat silently on Farkas’s bed, bottles of mead and wine in hand, enjoying the silence.  Just a calm before the storm, Lena thought. She was gathering her nerve to ask Vilkas about what Aela had told her, when Farkas stalked in and slammed the door.  Lena flushed, and raised her eyebrows.  “Do either of you know how to get mead out of leather and furs? I washed it with soap three times in hot water and it’s still sticky.”

Vilkas laughed. “I can’t believe Njada did that.  Good for her, such initiative.”

Lena looked out of the corner of her eye at Vilkas, but said nothing. She had put off talking with Njada due to the attack and their mourning, but she wasn’t sure how much more she could take.  

“Initiative. To do what?” Farkas rolled his eyes. “Make me cold and wet? Get me eaten alive by ants?” Farkas held out his hand in Lena’s direction.  “And by the way, yes, Lena, that _is_ how you get ants.”

Vilkas leaned forward, hands on the edge of the mattress.  “Brother, do you really not know what Njada was up to, or are you just trying to be delicate around the lady?” Vilkas nodded his head with exaggerated movements in Lena’s direction, as Lena clenched her teeth to keep from reacting.  “Ok, what did she do, exactly?”

Farkas went to the bar and poured ale out of a keg into a stoneware mug.  “I already told you.  I went out to catch a rabbit for dinner, and when I got back, she was standing over my bedroll, pouring mead all over it.” He downed half the mug in one sip and braced his arms on the side of the bar. “I asked her what the hell she was doing, and she didn’t even act surprised. Just smiled and said there was still enough bed for both of us, and I could sleep in her bedroll. It made her really mad when I asked why. She threw the bottle at me.”

Vilkas shut his eyes, and covered his face with his palm. Shaking his head, he laughed.  “I just…wow.  When… wow.”

Farkas didn’t notice Vilkas’s mirth at his epic cluelessness. He was too busy noticing that Lena’s face was on fire. “Hey, Lena?  Your eyes are red.  Like, on fire, red. What’s wrong?”

Vilkas looked at Lena, and waved his hand away from her.  “She’s fine, maybe just practicing Fire Breath too much, that’s all.” He stood up and walked over to the bar. “Back to you, though. Don’t you think it’s… _possible_ …that Njada wanted your bedroll wet so you could sleep in hers?  With her?  Like _sleep_ with her?  You know?”

Farkas looked at Vilkas.  Gradually, his confused look turned into one of embarrassed horror.  “Oh, gods. And I… chose a wet, ant-covered bedroll rather than... I can’t believe she didn’t kill me in my sleep.”

Lena walked over to the bar, drink in hand, and both brothers suddenly stopped laughing and looked at her, eyebrows slightly raised. Lena sighed. “You are _such_ an ice-brain,” and laughed.              

Farkas blushed as red as his lute. He did love hearing Lena laugh.


	13. Brothers, Am I Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena enlists Farkas and Vilkas to help her in Kynesgrove. Lena finally, FINALLY, realizes what's going on between her and Farkas.

A few bottles later, Farkas and Vilkas stared at Lena across the bar with open-mouthed adoration as she told them about the Ustengrav debacle and her meeting with Delphine.  Lust practically poured from their eyes as Vilkas said, his voice almost breaking, “Are you telling me-“

“Us,” said Farkas, tapping his own chest with two fingers.

“Are you telling _us_ …that you want us to go watch a dragon come back from the dead?”

Lena narrowed her eyes, and looked from brother to brother. They were a little too excited about this. _Nords_. "Yes," she said, shaking her head a bit.

“And then,” Farkas broke in, “you want us to help you kill the dragon?”

“The same dragon that _just_ rose from the dead?” Vilkas’s eyes were the size of septims. “I have never loved you more than I do at this moment. Marry me.”

Farkas looked sharply at his brother, but Lena just laughed and took a drink. “Funny, always so funny.  So, you in?” Some of the tension she’d been carrying in her back and shoulders relaxed as they assured her that they’d help. She’d killed other dragons, of course. It was the only way to harness power to Shout, but she had no idea what to expect this time. A resurrected dragon? Knowing the twins would be at her back was a relief.

Both brothers practically yelled “of course!” and “when??” at the same time. 

“I was supposed to meet Delphine at Kynesgrove a week from now,” Lena said, “but I don’t want to miss the funeral, and I don’t want to miss what Aela has to report, so I called a courier to tell her that I’d just send word when we were ready to leave. If she wants the dragonborn’s help, she’ll have to accept it.  Plus, I have to go back to High Hrothgar tomorrow.  Return the Horn, hopefully learn more Shouts.  Although… did you see the sweet Ethereal Form I used to sneak up behind that Silver Hand?  _That_ is handy.”

“Word Wall at Ustengrav?” Vilkas asked, his curiosity rising. For all his reading and love for books, it was hard for him to imagine a magic wall with words that imparted power. Maybe one day he'd see one. 

“Yeah. I still can’t believe I went all the way up there for nothing.” Lena started on her fourth bottle, the trip to High Hrothgar weighing on her mind. She wasn't happy with the way the Greybeards were handling what they thought of as their responsibilities. If she really was supposed to save the world from dragons, would a little directness and plain-speaking hurt? Mysticism just wasn't her thing.

Farkas shook his head. “Not for nothing.  It saved Kodlak’s life.  I was seconds away from full-on crazy Nord mode, which wouldn’t have ended well. For that, I thank this Delphine,” he said, and held up his mug in salute. Privately, he was having trouble keeping his anger at bay. The way Lena described it, Ustengrav was one of the most dangerous barrows out there. He understood the strange woman's motivation, but putting Lena in danger didn't sit well. 

“Speaking of the Silver Hand, is there anything else I don’t know? Torvar seems to have let his buddies know Jorrvaskr was going to be short a few defenders and,” she paused, flicking her eyes up at Vilkas. “I’m sorry we weren’t there, you know, when it all started.  You tried to convince me to wait to go to Ustengrav, and if I had, we might have saved…we might have saved Vignar.  I’m sorry.”

Vilkas nodded. “Thanks, but don’t blame yourself.  It wouldn’t have helped. Vignar was walking out the door as they stormed in, so…” Vilkas choked on his words and swallowed, hard. “We can’t know if things would have been better any other way.  Suppose the Silver Hand had surprised us while you were sleeping or bathing? No point in blaming anyone else but those monsters for Vignar’s death.”

“If Torvar hadn’t left right after he overheard us, I would have expected the attack. But as it was, it made more sense to take us out on the road, try to preserve his cover,” mused Farkas, who was feeling the weight of his own judgment. If he and Njada and Aela had been in Jorrvaskr...

“Maybe he wasn’t sure how many people knew, and thought that taking down Kodlak would weaken us.” Vilkas stood and set his bottle down on the bar. He couldn't sink into guilt tonight. What was done was done, and there'd be enough time for grieving at the funeral. “I’m going to bed.  Might be too excited to sleep, thinking about dragons, though.”

"Yeah,” Farkas agreed. Maybe when Aela came back, the traitor's motives would become clearer. He could overanalyze and castigate himself for his mistakes then. “Tomorrow, we need to talk to Kodlak and figure out a…story to tell Ria and Athis and the others. They’ll get suspicious if we tell them nothing, but obviously we can’t tell the truth.”

Lena slid off her stool and yawned. “Yeah, bed sounds good. If I’m off up the mountain before you two are up tomorrow, I’ll see you when I see you.”

"You sure you don't need us to go with you?" She'd explained Arngeir's request that this quest was hers and hers alone, and the climb wasn't as arduous as he thought it'd be, but still...he knew he'd worry. And miss her. 

"Honestly? If things weren't so crazy around here, I'd accept the company," she said, stretching, her freshly-laundered tunic stiff against her skin. It was difficult not to accept Farkas's offer. Being alone with him again on the mountain was so tempting. "But with everything...and Aela due back any day, I don't want to leave Jorrvaskr understaffed again. I'll be fine, I promise. And the quiet and solitude of the climb will do me good, I think." She slowly, reluctantly, moved to set her bottle on the bar. "As long as I get some sleep, so...goodnight."

Farkas sighed. If that was what she wanted, he'd let her be. “Goodnight,” he said, reaching out to take her bottle instead.  Their fingers brushed, and Farkas’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, watching her walk out the door. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Come in,” Vilkas said, and as Lena walked into his room, Vilkas sat up in his bed where he’d been reading and leered at her. “I’ve been…expecting you.”

Lena stared at him, and then laughed.  “That is quite the sexy look.  Just a pointer, no woman wants to do the walk of shame with warpaint smeared over her face.  Soap and water are your allies in love.”

“Kodlak set watch outside, and I don’t want them to have to guard the baths too, so I locked them up.  I’ll be ok until morning, and I do _not_ expect company.” Vilkas took a closer look at the dark circles under Lena’s eyes and closed his book.  “What’s going on?  You looked tired enough to collapse…what, an hour ago? I can’t believe you’re not asleep yet.”

“Too much on my mind. Everything is happening so fast, and so much has changed.  And now…" she wrung her hands a bit. How was she supposed to bring this up? Vilkas would probably think she was delusional. "Did Aela talk to you before she left?”

Vilkas sighed. Finally. “Come on, sit.” He patted the space next to his feet on the bed. This would be a long conversation, and Lena wouldn't be able to stand up much longer. 

Lena looked around.  “This is a pretty big bed.  Why do you have this enormous one, and Farkas has one meant for a child?”

“Well, that _is_ Farkas’s bed from when he was a kid. He’s not wanted to get rid of it. Plus, I need a big bed for obvious-“

“Stop, stop, I don’t want to know,” Lena said, covering her ears in mock disgust.

“Alright, I’ll behave,” Vilkas said. “Yes, I talked to Aela, and I know you’ve sensed your mate.  I don’t know for sure who it is; the bond doesn’t close until you both meet in wolf form.” Vilkas laughed nervously. “Hell, it could be me, for all we know.”

Lena jumped slightly and Vilkas held his hands out to reassure her. “Relax, relax, I was joking. It _could_ be, stranger things have happened, but I don’t think it is.”

Lena wrinkled her nose in thought. She knew it wasn't Vilkas, but couldn't put her finger on how she knew, and why she thought it was... “Why not?”

Vilkas sat up and leaned towards her, taking one of her hands in his. “Truth? I love you, always have and always will.  But as a brother, and a friend. For some reason, everyone expects us to end up together, even Aela; it’s why she told me, to warn me. But, I’m not…drawn to you the way mates are, and I’ll wager you’re not drawn to me, either.”

Lena sighed, relieved. It was awkward thinking of Vilkas in a romantic fashion, and she was glad he felt the same. “No. You are, as you well know, _devastatingly_ handsome, but I don’t feel that pull I felt that night.  Are you sure?”

“I said no one can be _completely_ sure.  But I think there would be something, some warning, even in our human forms.  Ok, close your eyes, and relax.  Deep breaths,” Vilkas said, and guided her breathing for a minute. “What do you feel?  What do you smell? Don’t think, only feel.”

“I feel…happy.  Safe.  Loved, like a sister.  It’s…comfortable to me, somehow.” Lena took another deep breath, feeling her...wolf sense, or whatever it was, reach out and touch him, like invisible fingers on his cheek. “I smell water, like a river.  Metal…clean, like gold. And perfume?  Lavender and…nightshade?”

“That last one,” Vilkas nodded sheepishly, “isn’t me.  But it _is_ strong.” He grabbed his other pillow and propped his elbows over it, on his knees. The mating bond was something he didn't understand, and he'd been scared it was him, despite his feelings to the contrary. It would break his brother's heart. But speaking to Lena about it renewed his confidence. _It's not me_. His shoulders relaxed. “But not iron or honey or spices, and that’s what you smelled that night, right? And our brother/sister bond feels natural to you. I think that would… _not_ be true if we were mates.”

Lena nodded.  “I smelled blood, too, that night.  How creepy is that?”

“For humans, very.  For wolves, well, what you’re smelling is your mate’s blood, not spilled blood.  It doesn’t mean you’re attracted to blood or that your mate is violent, if that’s what you’re afraid of. It’s just a wolf thing.  You should ask Aela how she felt when she first sensed Skjor if you really want to know.”

“I wanted to,” Lena said, pulling a pillow into her lap and kneading it.  “But it seemed like such an intimate thing to ask, and Aela and I aren’t close yet.”

Vilkas nodded. He'd have to prod her a little bit more to get her to understand.  “I think you knew it wasn’t me, already, before you came in.  What do you _really_ want to talk about?”

“I…” Lena started, and then cocked her head to one side. “ _Everyone_ thinks we’ll end up together?  Why??”

“We have a lot in common," Vilkas said, and shrugged. "We both read quite a bit, and tend to like the same books. We talk politics and get fired up over the same injustices.  Remember being in the schoolroom together?  Like two peas. That’s what finally got me to warm up to you, back when you first came to Jorrvaskr, you know? Finally, someone I could argue with.”

“You were an arrogant little twerp.” Lena smiled, remembering that dark-haired boy on the verandah who'd done everything he could to put her in her place.

“Yes, still am.” Vilkas looked down at his pillow. “And there’s…how I acted when you first got back.  People thought what I was doing was because…I was in love with you, and I didn’t know how to deal.  Like a six year old pulling a little girl’s pigtails because he likes her.”

Vilkas looked back up at Lena, his eyes intense. He'd done a lot of thinking since Lena'd expressed concern over his lovelife. She had a point. Maybe. “I’m not six anymore, and if I love a woman I’ll damn well tell her. At the very least, I won’t make her hate the sight of me.  I’ve long since learned my lesson. That ‘boys will be boys’ nonsense is just that – nonsense.”

Lena took a deep breath, and let it out, nervously staring at the door. _Here goes nothing_. “I think my mate…I think…could it be Farkas? It’s the pull of the blood, and the scent. Farkas isn’t a slob, and he isn’t a drunk.  Yet, I smell the iron of battle and warm, spiced honey whenever he’s around. And I want to be with him when he’s _not_ around. But…why are you smiling?” she asked, when she finally found the courage to look at her friend.

“No, I just wondered when it would finally come to you. Finally," Vilkas said, stretching his arms toward the ceiling. She knew.  "Your face tonight, when he was talking about Njada’s idiot stunt…I thought you were going to explode. No exaggeration. You literally had fire in your eyes.  Why would you be so upset if Farkas were merely your shield-brother?”

“But…if I feel this, wouldn’t Farkas, too? Wouldn’t he be drawn to me?  He’s said nothing…” Lena said, frowning. 

“Neither have you, to him, anyway.  And he _wouldn’t_ say anything.  Not to you, and not to me. Everyone thinks you and I will end up together, remember?  Farkas hears the talk, and knowing him, he probably believes it.  I found Athis and Torvar cleaning armor long into the night a couple of weeks ago.  I asked why, and they said Farkas was mad because they’d teased him about being stuck in your friend zone. Even if he _did_ know, even if he felt that bond, he would never sabotage something he thought I wanted.  Or you wanted.  That’s love, baby.” Vilkas huffed, shaking his head with an affectionate smile. “Think about it. If you and I did fall in love and want to be together, what do you think Farkas would do? Fight me? Try to win you away from his twin brother?”

Lena was silent.  Vilkas waited for what he was saying to sink in, and then continued.  “No, Farkas would somehow deal with it. He’d find room in that giant, loyal heart for both of us, and he would ignore his needs and desires.  That’s his strength, it always has been. He’s worthy of love _because_ he will give it up to make those he loves…happy.”

“But that’s just it.  Aela said it was possible _not_ to love your mate.  To feel that attraction and bond, even, but not be ‘in love.’ What if it’s the opposite?  That I think I’m feeling a mating bond for Farkas because…I love him. That I’m imagining it?”

Vilkas shook his head, “No, Aela saw it happen, and she knows what it’s like.  It’s real.”

When Lena spoke again, after a minute, her voice was husky. “If he doesn’t love me…”

“Farkas not love you? You might as well ask what might happen if the sun doesn’t rise in the morning. It’s an equally silly question.” Vilkas leaned back on his pillow and crossed his arms behind his head. “Do you know why Farkas didn’t understand what Njada was trying to do on the way back from Riften?”

Lena shrugged. “No, I don’t.  Surely there have been women…he can’t be…”

“Innocent? Ha, no. There have been women, a few, here and there. But not since you came back, and he has had plenty of opportunity.  When a woman means something to Farkas, he doesn’t see anyone else that way, even if they’re as direct as Njada was. He’s not really oblivious.  The thought that there could be another woman for him, even for one night, just didn’t enter his mind.”

“So you _knew_ ,” Lena said, poking a finger at Vilkas’s chest. “In his room, you knew why he didn’t sleep with Njada.  Why did you tease him, then?”

“Well, it was fun, first off,” Vilkas laughed, softly.  “But, it was mostly for you, to get you to understand.  And since fire almost shot from your eyes, I got the reaction I was going for.”

Lena laughed softly as she got up and walked to the door.  Just as she was about to pull the latch, Vilkas spoke. “I’m not sure if you want my advice or not, but here it is. Whatever happens with all…” he gestured broadly with his hands “this, it’s up to you. I get that you already have enough responsibility to choke a mammoth, but that’s the way it is. Farkas has to understand that you want to be with him because you love him, and not just because of the wolf thing.”

Lena leaned against the door, and suddenly smiled. “No, it’s up to _us_.  If we want Farkas to be free of his obligations to brotherly love and friendship, we’re going to have to work together. I’m pretty sure you’re going to like your part of the plan.”

 


	14. Are You Watching Closely?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Circle discovers the motivation behind the attack on Jorrvaskr, and Farkas confides in Kodlak.

_Lena chased the wolf (her wolf, he was hers) through icy tundra. She gulped chilly breaths, and her heart pounded with the thrill of the run and his sweet, spicy scent. It clung_ _to him, filling her senses and urging her on. Faster. Woods loomed ahead, moody and inviting in the violet twilight. If she could only catch him…_

_Her spine tingled, and she slowed to a stop. The watery sun disappeared, and snow swirled in the wake of something massive and dark flying above. Power crackled like lightning, humming amid the trees, the earth, even the wind. She craved it…oh, the power. She closed her eyes and felt it surge through her blood._

_Snow crunched, and her eyes flew open. A wolf approached on hesitant paws, snow settling in his dark, shaggy coat. His ears flattened, and a whine escaped his jaws. Did he fear her? A picture flashed through her mind – a man, his hair dark and shaggy. A smile like warm, sweet honey. And eyes…_

_The wolf’s blue, tip-tilted eyes met hers, and a trace of something sweet scented the air. She had a mate, didn’t she? A lover? This wolf, wasn’t he…?_

_A moan resonated in Lena’s throat, her bones slowly cracking and stretching. Fire flickered in her belly and spread, raging through her body. The scent of embers and white-hot flame filled her nostrils, and her eyes flashed red._

_No. This wolf was prey. She roared and threw her shoulders back, her wings spreading full span. The wolf froze, crouching as she drew in an icy breath-_

She sat up straight in bed, a vague sense of unease pushing the fevered dream from her mind. Full dark, Ria must have doused the candlelight when she’d come to bed. The whelp’s gentle snores sounded from the next bunk over. But something…something was different. Some _one_ …

Her eyes dilated. A shadowy figure stood in the doorway. Long, unbound hair, the scent of wolf and cold, night air. Lena’s chest collapsed in relief. Aela.

Aela motioned, and Lena gingerly rolled out of bed and padded out to the hallway, her bare feet cold against the stone floor. What time was it? She and Vilkas stayed up far too late talking, and unless she missed her guess, there’d be no more time for sleep today.

“Underforge,” Aela snapped under her breath. “Circle’s meeting. Now.”

Lena nodded and scratched the back of her neck as Aela stalked up the stairs. She yawned, walking back to her bed to grab her tunic and leggings. Aela had to have news from Riften, an explanation why Torvar wanted them all dead. _Gods_. So much for her trip to High Hrothgar, but the horn would be safe in Jorrvaskr for a while.

The underforge was freezing, like the rest of Skyrim, so close to Yuletide. Winter certainly wasted no time. Lena noticed Farkas standing near the font, and her blood warmed, bubbling through her core.

Last night in the baths had been something of a revelation. An awakening. She’d noticed attractive men before, of course. But…she blushed, remembering water lapping against his hips. Steam condensing on his skin, droplets chasing each other down his scars and the hills and valleys of his body. The underforge no longer felt quite so chilly.

Farkas was her mate. She was sure of it. Did he know? She sneaked a glance up at his face, to find him watching her. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but shut it, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Lena smiled back and yawned again. Vilkas seemed sure Farkas loved her. Wanted her. She hugged herself, trying to stay patient…stay calm. It seemed frivolous to concern herself with such things in the face of dragons and civil war. Not to mention the tragedy that brought them to the underforge so early in the first place. _But… we could spend Yuletide together._ One first out of so many potential firsts.

Aela motioned for attention, and Lena shoved all those delicious, ridiculous thoughts from her mind, focusing on the task at hand.

“You all might want to sit down,” Aela said, gracefully lowering her body, cross-legged, to the stone floor. “I need to, and I already know what I’m going to say. It’s too early for wine, but you might need that, too, after I’m done.”

Lena glanced around the room. A full-blooded member of the Circle she might be, but…she’d just joined when the Silver Hand ramped up their killing. And, she’d been conveniently gone when they’d invaded Jorrvaskr. Did anyone still think…?

Aela’s sharp eyes fixed Lena with a withering look. “No, no one suspects you anymore. You’re one of us now. Our defeat would be yours. Our unmasking, your own. Besides, what I learned…what’s going on here is far crazier than some Dominion plot.” She motioned to the floor. “Sit.”

“Well,” Vilkas began, and pulled Lena down to sit next to him. Farkas took the spot on her other side. “Don’t keep us in suspense any longer.”

Aela waited until Skjor had helped Kodlak to the floor. “I’m not even sure how to start. Bottom line, the Silver Hand isn’t working alone. There’s some crazy, new player out there. Bastard offshoot of the Meridia cult.”

“Meridia?” Vilkas screwed up his face, puzzled. “That makes no sense. Isn’t her heartburn the undead? Why’s another daedric lord after us?”

“Well, she’s not. Not really. Not that I can tell,” Aela said, sighing, frustrated. This whole situation had her frazzled. She knew how to deal with the Hand – brute force and bloody violence. But fanatics? Heartbreaking tales of childhood tragedy and trauma? She sneaked a glance at Farkas and Vilkas. Not in her wheelhouse. “Let me start from the beginning...”

_In a village east of Riften, a small boy slept peacefully in the stable hayloft. He thought it might be fun to camp out for the night, and his parents relented after some begging. Summer was fleeting, after all. His mom had smiled, tucking him into warm blankets, surrounded by sun-toasted, sweet-smelling hay._

_His eyes met only darkness when they flew open, hours later. But, something wasn’t right. Cows lowed and shuffled in their stalls. Somewhere in the village, a horse shrieked. Close by, too close…a growl. Wolf? Bear? The boy crept to the small hayloft door and opened it, maybe an inch._

_Dark shapes hulked in the moonlight, walking slowly from house to house. Wolves, but bigger. More…man-shaped._ Impossible _._

 _They separated, and one crouched, sniffing at the door of his house. His parents were inside. His sister. The boy looked around for a weapon._ Move. Move, coward _._

_A high-pitched scream sounded, and he took a step toward the ladder. There had to be a pitchfork down there. Something. He could help._

_But when a wolf roared, shaking the ground, the very air around him, he froze, and stuffed his blanket into his mouth to keep from screaming as monsters destroyed his village._ Wake up _. Killed his family._ Please, wake up _._

_He stayed still. Praying they wouldn’t find him. Praying they would._

_Silence fell once more, and he crawled back to the door. Dirt and hay stuck to his wet cheeks, his breath came in ragged gasps. The beasts gathered in the village square and…seemed to shrink. Yes, they were shrinking, their animal shapes giving way to that of men. Armored men._

_“Werewolves,” the boy mouthed, giving ghastly substance to a campfire tale. Impossible. And yet..._

_One man, fair hair cascading down his back, grabbed a torch and lit it at the blacksmith’s forge. He turned toward the stable, and the boy held his breath. The man’s face was craggy and pale._

_A finger of cold touched his spine. If he could see the werewolf’s face, could the werewolf see him? Smell him?_

_The werewolf took a step toward the hayloft and sniffed. Torchlight shone over his steel armor, casting the wolf’s head carving on the cuirass into menacing relief._

_The boy buried himself in the hay._

The boy hadn’t died in that hayloft, Aela told them. Torvar’d walked to Riften. Collapsed at the gate. Constance, the assistant director at Honorhall, remembered the night he came to them. She told a sad tale of a lonely boy, his anger fueled by nightmares of monsters and his family’s screams.

Was his account true? Constance didn’t know. But something destroyed that village. Even the Rift guards were affected, their faces pale and drawn as they’d headed straight to the Bee and Barb after checking for survivors.

Years later, he’d apprenticed at the stables, and his old master recalled Torvar with ease. Remembered him getting friendly with a group of religious folk.

_“The Divines? No, not the divines. They looked like Vigilants,” the old master drawled, scratching his white beard. “But different.” He narrowed his eyes. “You said you’re a Companion? What you want with Torvar?”_

_“He’s one of us,” Aela said, trying to keep her jaw from clenching._ Traitor. Murderer _. “He’s gone missing, and we’re trying to find him. Any clues as to where he might have gone would be helpful.”_

_The master nodded, leaning back against the stable wall. “Well then. Never thought Torvar had the makings of a warrior, but I’ve been wrong before. Anyway, these religious types. Daedra worshippers, they were. Meridia. Or, at least they used to worship Meridia. But they broke away. The old girl wasn’t hard enough on the undead for the likes of them. Needed a stronger hand, they said.” He sniffed. “Torvar left with them one day, years ago. Never saw any of ‘em again.”_

“So these,” Farkas began, looking around at their stunned expressions, “what did you call them again?”

“Zealots of the Dawn,” Lena said, her voice hollow.

“Yeah. These guys think we’re undead? How’s that?”

Aela sighed. “I did some digging. They think we lose our souls when we become wolves. Of course they don’t know that we’re…different. They don’t know about the ritual. We’re not tied to the moon. We can control our transformations, but they don’t get that.”

“Wow,” Vilkas said, his gaze lighting on Kodlak, the old man’s grief written on his face. Vilkas felt a twinge of guilt. He knew Kodlak took responsibility for Vignar’s death, and this would ramp that up a hundred fold. “So werewolves killed Torvar’s family, and he took it out on us?”

“Vilkas,” Lena said. “He saw the wolf on the armor, the assistant at Honorhall told Aela…who else has wolf armor in Skyrim?”

Skjor grunted, curving one arm around Aela. The time for privacy was over, it seemed. Secrets already had done more harm than good. “The wolf is a common emblem in Skyrim. Short of Ulfric’s bear and the dragon symbol itself, it’s the most common. It wasn’t us,” he said, looking at Kodlak with raised brows, fierce eyes. “It wasn’t. But all he had to do was find the Silver Hand and tell them what he saw, and…well, the Hand doesn’t ask many questions before it strikes.”

Lena was quiet for a minute with the others, letting the news sink in. Torvar had infiltrated the group, pumped her for information, set fanatics loose on her home. Anger fanned a tiny fire, flickering for a moment just beneath her skin.

And as she looked around the room, she could see everyone shared her emotion. But also, a fair amount of sadness and guilt. Understandable: Vignar died because of their secret. “So,” she said, drawing her knees to her chest, “what do we tell everyone else?”

“Well,” Aela drawled, “that - part of it at least - is up to you.”

“Why me? I’m no different from any of you. Why do I get to decide?”

“Actually, you are,” Skjor said, drawing a dagger from his boot and scratching a whorl into the stone floor. “You’re dragonborn.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” She didn’t get special privileges for being dragonborn. She shouldn’t. Everyone’s lives were at stake here.

Aela looked at Skjor for a fraction of a second, hesitating. “They have their theories about you, too. Torvar reported back. ‘The dragonborn’s here, with the Companions –‘“

“Shit,” Farkas said. “That loud mouthed…”

“Yeah,” Aela said, grabbing Skjor’s dagger and embellishing his whorl with tiny chevrons. “You kill dragons, Lena. And take their souls. And use those souls to power your magical Shouts, right?”

Lena nodded, not getting the gist of their implication. “But…”

“Congratulations, girl,” Skjor said. “You’re a necromancer. Meridia fucking hates necromancers even more than she hates the undead. Her newest followers thought to capitalize on that, and let’s say, expand on its definitions a bit.”

Lena winced, wrinkling her nose. “But I’m not -”

“Of course you’re not. And we didn’t kill Torvar’s parents. But it doesn’t really matter, does it? I don’t think these people will sit and listen to logic, do you?”

Vilkas watched Lena, wondering what she’d make of this latest development. She’d adjusted to her new life, but the pressure of being dragonborn and beastborn grew every day. Not to mention the nascent mating bond. Would this prove to be the last straw?

Lena considered, her chin resting on her knees. After nearly two minutes of silence, she smiled. “Tell them. Matter of fact, tell them everything.”

Everyone started talking at once, and Lena held her hands out, motioning for a chance to explain.

“Remember where I’ve been for the last fifteen years? Captive to the most manipulative bastards on Nirn. Bound to pick up a thing or two,” she said. “And one of the best ways to keep a secret you don’t want investigated is simply tell the truth. Or, as close to the truth as you can get without giving yourself away. And then, deflect. With something everyone knows is false.”

She looked around and Aela, especially, seemed intrigued. Lena continued, stretching her legs out in front of her. “We can play on the fact that Torvar infiltrated Jorrvaskr. Fooled them. Lied to them. Destroy his credibility.”

“Use the werewolf mythos: the moon, silver. I wear a silver amulet, and it doesn’t hurt me. My induction took place under both full moons. Bring it up. Tell them the Silver Hand was hunting werewolves, and would you believe it? They thought we were! It’ll sound too ridiculous to believe.”

“But what about you?” Farkas tapped her knee with a thumb and forefinger. “What if they think-“

“If they want to believe I’m a necromancer, I’m willing to take one for the team, here. Necromancy isn’t illegal. But I’m betting on-“

Farkas shook his head. “I’m not willing to bet your life, Lena. Not after you just got it back.”

Lena smiled and covered his hand with her own, feeling him jump under her touch. _Me too_. “But it won’t come to that. Here’s the beauty: the werewolf claims are so ludicrous, the dragonborn theory’ll look that way as well. Jarl Balgruuf is a true Nord, right? Traditional to his bones. He doesn’t truck with necromancers. Why put me on his council if I am one?”

Kodlak nodded. “It might work. It does seem crazy when you put it that way. But I still-“

“Yes, we know,” Vilkas said, nodding wearily. He was in no mood to listen to Kodlak fight with Aela and Skjor again. “And ending the bargain is still on the table if we find a way out. But for now, let’s table that. We need to get Jorrvaskr back under control. And the whelps are restless, suspicious, worried. We need to reassure them. Bring everyone back together.”

Kodlak reluctantly agreed. “When should I schedule the briefing?”

To Lena’s surprise, everyone looked her way. She tried not to smile, her face flushing warm under their confidence. “Do it today. Before the funeral. Seeing everyone mourn Vignar should be another mark in our favor.”

“Not that it won’t be real,” she said, glancing at Farkas. That last sounded cold and calculating even to her own ears. “That’s not what I-“

Aela rolled her eyes. “We get it. It sounded harsher than you meant, but we get it.”

“And we’ll be leaving the next day, me and the twins, to go to Kynesgrove,” Lena said. She looked at Aela. She hadn’t been there when Lena’d come back from Ustengrav. She didn’t know. “A woman interfered with my test. She knows I’m dragonborn. Whoever she is, she has information I need. Information the Greybeards won’t tell me. We can talk about the details later, if that’s ok.”

Aela nodded. “Sure. Good timing. It’ll give the whelps a few days to process. No Torvar. No dragonborn. Everything back to normal. Should help.”

Kodlak nodded, placing his hand on Skjor’s arm and motioning for help standing up. “Thank you, Lena. I’ll think on it and make a decision over breakfast. We’ll call a meeting during lunch and tell the company…”

Everyone moved to stand, their bodies stiff from cold stone floors and too little sleep. Coffee and an extra-sweet breakfast were in order this morning. Farkas helped Lena up and moved to take Kodlak’s other arm, pulling the Harbinger to his feet.

Farkas glanced back. Aela and Lena spoke, leaning against the wall, of the mysterious Delphine and their mission in Kynesgrove. Her face grew animated as she spoke of dragons rising from the dead.

Brooding, he followed Kodlak out of the underforge and up to Jorrvaskr. Kynesgrove was important. He couldn’t distract Lena with his suspicions, could he? If she felt the same…he barely allowed himself to hope before squashing the tiny sliver under the weight of his doubt. He needed help.

 

* * *

 

 

“Something on your mind, young man?” Kodlak slowly lowered himself into his chair, watching Farkas set his breakfast tray down on the table.

Farkas grunted. He hoped his worries weren’t so plain to everyone else. Lena didn’t need another thing on her plate. “Not so young anymore.”

“You’ll always be, to me,” Kodlak said, chuckling into his coffee. “So.”

Farkas sat across from Kodlak, wincing a little as the chair creaked. “I shouldn’t be putting this on you. You don’t want the blood anymore. After all this…well, I’m not sure how I feel about it either, but I have to talk to someone. And Vilkas…” he threw his hands up in front of his chest. “I can’t.”

Kodlak leaned forward. “Something you can’t tell Vilkas? I didn’t think that was possible.”

He took a deep breath and hesitated. Speaking the words would make it real. “It’s Lena, I’m-“

“Everyone knows that, boy. What you feel for her is plain as the nose on your face.”

Farkas frowned. “If I’m that obvious, she must not-”

“Let me amend that statement. Everyone knows – _but_ – Lena. Remember, for all her cunning and power, she’s been sheltered from everything that made her human for well over a decade. How would she know what love looks like?” Kodlak leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. “But why not talk to Vilkas?“

Farkas pressed his lips together, unable to explain. How could he admit he loved a woman who might be in love with his brother? A woman his brother might love, too? How could he even think of getting in the middle of that? If his suspicions were correct, it would break both their hearts.

Kodlak shook his head. “Nevermind. Whatever it is, I’m staying out of it. But don’t worry about the beastblood. I may not want it for myself. But the day I refuse counsel to one more like a son to me than anything else, well, that’s the day I lay down my sword for good.”

Farkas’s eyes burned. He’d loved Kodlak growing up, of course he had. But the man wasn’t one to show affection. Kodlak had never admitted to feeling anything fatherly toward the boys.

That was Vignar’s strong suit. Farkas missed Vignar. He could hear the old man now: _‘get off your duff, boy and stop wasting time. Kiss her. Hold her in your arms. Tell her you love her_.’

“It’s more than how I feel about her,” he said, rising and pacing around the room. “I’m…and I can’t believe I’m even saying this. If I hadn’t experienced it, I would think I’m just as crazy as those Zealots. I think Lena’s my…mate.”

Kodlak pressed his fingers into his brow and sighed. “I’m not going to ask you how you know. That’s…that’s a feeling I know all too well.”

“But you’ve never…”

Kodlak gave him a long look. “I’ve been in the Circle since before you were born, boy. I had a life outside swords and death. I loved. And lost.”

Farkas frowned, surprised, and stopped pacing. Aela assumed Kodlak had never mated. But where was she? What happened? Farkas didn’t want to be nosy or open old wounds, but he couldn’t help being curious. “She’s…”

“Dead, long years,” Kodlak answered in a ragged whisper, his eyes fiery. “At the hand of another wolf.”

Farkas let himself fall limply against a nightstand. “So, is that why...” he stopped as Kodlak’s intensity turned withering. Curiosity would have to wait. “Um, so Lena…”

“If you feel you’re mates, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t want Lena to be with me because she has to be. Because some werewolf bond forces her to be. If we’re together, it should be because she loves me. Freely. But if we’re mates, if that happens first, how will I ever know?”

Kodlak groaned. _Youth is wasted on the young_. “You’re making this more complicated than it has to be, you know.”

“I’m not,” Farkas insisted, voicing his latest fear aloud. “She- she never should have taken the blood.”

Kodlak nodded. “At least we agree on something.”

“She already had enough on her shoulders. A prisoner for fifteen years, almost executed. Lost her family. And the dragonborn thing – duty, destiny, and no choice in the matter. Now I’m expected to bind her to me? For the rest of her life? She deserves better. A little freedom, at least.”

“Lena loves you too. I’ve been around long enough to know it when I see it. ”

Farkas stared down at his hands, his stomach in knots. He couldn’t afford that kind of hope. “Yes. I know. But…like a brother.”

“If you believe that, I have some seafront property in the Rift to sell you, cheap,” Kodlak said, snorting. “But your heart’s in the right place. If you think she needs time, take time. But not too much. I don’t pretend to understand the magic that binds us to Hircine. Gives us our gifts and powers. Yes, gifts, I said it.” He huffed, wincing as a sudden pain lanced through his gut. “It’s a double-edged sword, as you well know.”

“But the mating bond, well, that’s powerful on its own. I think…this is my own opinion, mind, and not something I know for sure. Maybe our wolves aren’t bound, or controlled. Maybe they just…know when it’s right, before we do. Instinct.”

“So take your time. But also, pay attention to your wolf. Pay attention to Lena. And,” he said, wagging an admonishing finger in Farkas’s direction, “give her what she needs.”

Farkas nodded, brooding in silence. “Thank you,” he said, finally dragging his eyes back to Kodlak.

“Of course,” Kodlak scoffed. “I couldn’t look at myself if I turned you away. Not when I could help. You and Lena both are going through so-”

“No, not for this,” Farkas said, his eyes widening at Kodlak’s furrowed brows. “Although, I do appreciate it.” He didn’t like to talk about how he and Vilkas were found. What they’d lost – their family, their innocence. But a reckoning was due, especially now, given what they’d learned. “What I mean is, thank you for taking us in. For letting us work through our nightmares and giving us a purpose. We could have been Torvar, me and Vilkas. Easy enough.”

Kodlak blinked, and a tear rolled down his craggy, wrinkled face. _Did you hear that, Vignar? You did well, old friend_. “My boy,” he said, his voice choked and husky. “It was my privilege. And my honor.”

 

 

 


	15. Letting Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The funeral, and Lena lets go of years of grief and guilt.

_“Before this ancient flame, we grieve. At this loss, we weep. For the fallen, we shout! And for ourselves, we take our leave.”_

Farkas noticed that only those who didn’t grow up or grow old with Vignar were able to chant the traditional closing verse. Kodlak, Vilkas, Farkas, Aela, and Lena, however, were silent in their grief, unable to speak through their tears. Vignar had been like a father to the younger Companions, and a brother to Kodlak, and no one could imagine Jorrvaskr without his presence.

When the ceremony was over, Lena walked alone behind Jorrvaskr, and leaned against the overlook railing. She stared up at the stars over the snowy mountains, and the cold wind took her breath away. Lena had spent the past fifteen years trying to survive, to get through the next day…and the next. She'd pretended to be fine. She'd packed away her sorrow and grief like boxes in an attic, waiting for the day she could unpack, and either use what was left or throw it away. As she watched clouds drift over the moon and stars, Lena finally let go, and her tears fell hot, then icy cold, down her cheeks.

Inside Jorrvaskr, the fires burned brightly and everyone gathered around the large table, telling stories of Vignar’s courage, prowess in battle, and in the case of Farkas and Vilkas, his ability to bandage scraped knees and elbows while pretending to be a bunny. Vilkas tapped Farkas on the shoulder. “Lena’s still outside. It’s cold. Go to her.”

Farkas looked up and around the room, so buried in his grief for the only father he’d ever known, that he hadn’t realized Lena wasn’t there. “Don’t _you_ want to…” Farkas’s voice trailed off as he looked at Vilkas expectantly.

“Don’t be an idiot. She’s my friend, my sister. I know she’s more than that to you. Farkas, _I know_ ,” he said. Farkas swallowed hard, and started to open his mouth.  “Go. To. Her.” Vilkas cut him off, and handed Farkas a clean tea towel. “And take this.”

 

* * *

 

Farkas went out onto the back porch, and found her, curled up in a ball and rocking back and forth on the stones. He couldn’t see her face; it was hidden beneath her arms.  He cleared his throat, and Lena looked up as he stepped down to the training area. She swiped at her freezing tears.

Farkas jogged over and handed her the towel. She was ice cold and shivering, so Farkas sat next to her and wrapped them both up in the thick fur blanket he had taken from beside the fire.

Lena curled up in Farkas’s arms, held the towel up to her eyes and cried. And cried. And cried, until Farkas felt his arms fall asleep and his rear start to freeze to the stones.  Should he say something to her? Farkas thought he should, and tried to think of something comforting to say, but he had nothing. After a time, she was quiet, and Farkas knew from her even breathing that she had fallen asleep. So he picked her up, blanket and all, and carried her inside. 

 

* * *

 

The room was dark when Lena awoke, and from the smell of honey and spice, she knew where she was – warm and safe in Farkas’s bed. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see a pile of blankets on the floor rise and fall. She smiled, and drifted back to sleep.


	16. Rebirth and Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Journey to Kynesgrove. Lena faces Alduin, and a tentative partnership is reached.

“Do we want to stay in Windhelm overnight, or in Kynesgrove?” Lena asked the twins as they rocked in the wagon over the rough roads headed northeast. “Unless you just want to go straight back to Whiterun after we take care of the…um…cave bear.”

“Cave bear,” Farkas scoffed, “We-“

Vilkas kicked Farkas’s ankle. “Yeah, we should have no problem with that cave bear, nope.” 

Farkas narrowed his eyes at Lena and Vilkas for a moment before he remembered they weren’t alone, and that the driver might take issue if he thought he’d meet a dragon at the end of the road.  He remembered being a _little_ scared meeting his first dragon, and he was tougher than the average bear, literally. “Aren’t we going to camp? Like always?”

Lena shook her head and grinned. “Remember how I complained about going to Ustengrav for nothing? Well, not _exactly_ nothing. I found three spell staffs and several enchanted weapons while I was there.” She lowered her voice and leaned in as she spoke. “We can fight a dragon and celebrate in relative luxury with a tiny fraction of what Farengar paid me for them. Besides, it might be nice to have a little break.”

Farkas stared at Lena. “We’re warriors, though. We camp. Camping’s fun! We even brought all the camping things.”

“Let’s not be too hasty, eh? Probably snowing up near Windhelm, and we don’t know how long it’ll take for the cave bear to show up. And…think about the warm drinks and even warmer beds, if we’re lucky…” Vilkas smiled at Farkas persuasively.

Farkas huffed and shook his head in disbelief. “If you both want to stay at Candlehearth, I suppose we can drop our stuff off there and walk to Kynesgrove. Not too far out. I’m just concerned,” Farkas lowered his voice this time, “about you.” He looked at Lena.

“Me? Why? Is Windhelm dangerous?  I’ve never been, remember.”

Vilkas leaned forward. “You know how we Nords can be a wee bit…hostile to things we don’t understand, sort of like our attitude toward magic? Well, in Windhelm, multiply that by a hundred or so. It’s just…it’s more racist than what you’re used to. Toward anyone who’s not obviously a Nord. You know, home of Ulfric ‘Skyrim Belongs To The Nords’ Stormcloak. You should be fine. You’re with us, and you’re dragonborn.  _And_ a badass. But depending on who’s getting everyone riled up this week, you never know. Last time I was there, someone challenged me to a brawl just for saying hello to a Dunmer. And now Dunmer have to live in ghettos.” Vilkas frowned. “Wow, Windhelm is actually a _lot_ racist.”

“Wow, no wonder my dad never wanted to go back. I _am_ half Nord, remember,” Lena bit her lip and thought for a moment. “Would it be better if we stayed in Kynesgrove? Or is all of Eastmarch that way?”

“Kynesgrove might be a bit better, especially if we rid the town of a certain pesky dragon,” Vilkas reasoned.  “I remember staying in the inn there once. It was nice.”

“Good, let’s plan on that.” Lena inclined her head toward Farkas with a smile. “Is this ok with you? We can still go play in the snow or whatever if you really want to be outside. You know, like warriors do.”

 

* * *

 

 

Snow started falling as they crossed into Eastmarch and climbed out of the valley. They took turns napping, and as they were the only three in the wagon, made use of the bedrolls and were well rested when they reached Kynesgrove by mid-afternoon. Getting rooms at the Braidwood was easy enough, although there were only two available.  

“We’ll figure out who’s sleeping where after the job is done,” Lena said to the brothers, who carried all their things to the rooms and dumped them on the beds. “The innkeeper said she hadn’t seen any other visitors. No Delphine. And nothing…violent…has happened to suggest, um, dragons. But she did mention an old barrow to the east and up the hill a bit. We should probably start there.”

The twins wore their usual Skyforge steel wolf armor and carried their greatswords and daggers, but Lena buckled on her new Elven armor. Adrianne had crafted a bright red leather sword belt to go with it, and her sash was dark blue-green. “Wow,” Farkas said. “Nice armor. It looks different than any Elven armor I’ve ever seen, though. And is that…an…” he looked closely at the bow she carried and whistled.

“It’s an ebony bow!” Lena squealed like a schoolgirl. “I couldn’t find any ebony arrows, so I have Elven instead, but isn’t it gorgeous? And the armor…yeah, Elven armor is too shiny. I could never sneak in it. Adrianne came up with a way to make the finish more muted. I thought it would be a good investment, though. I’ve been wearing that old scaled and leather stuff far too long. Can’t exactly stand up to dragon fire, can it?”

Vilkas smirked. “Too fancy for the likes of us, brother.” He handed Lena her green glass dagger and fireball staff. “After you, Dovahkiin.”

The trio made their way up the snowy hillside, and Lena kept an eye out for Delphine. About halfway up, they saw a woman armored in leather and plate crouching behind a hedgerow, her attention focused on something in the gray western sky.  Lena motioned for Farkas and Vilkas to get down, and moved closer to Delphine.  When she did, she noticed the dragon flying toward them. “Is that the dragon from the ba-“ she began, and then shivered. “Oh, gods.”

Delphine turned to Lena. “Great, you’re here. I was beginning to think you-“ She broke off at the look on Lena’s face. A pale green cast shadowed her usually caramel-colored skin. “What’s wrong?”

“That dragon didn’t come from the barrow, Delphine. That’s the one from Helgen. The one that _destroyed_ Helgen. Forty Imperial soldiers fought it and didn’t leave a scratch. We, I-“

“Who the hell are these two?” Delphine interrupted, noticing the twins crouched behind Lena.

“Are you listening? It doesn’t _matter_ who they are! They’re friends, warriors, and trustworthy, but if I’m right about that dragon, you don’t have any room to be choosy,” Lena countered, fighting every instinct to take her friends and run. “Let’s just do this, and I’ll explain after it’s over. If we’re still alive.”

Lena remembered that day at Helgen, head on the executioner’s block, feeling the force of the rising axe move her hair a little across her face, tickling her nose. Closing her eyes for the last time…and waiting. Instead of the axe ending her life, the concussion of the dragon’s Shout thundered around her and blew her clear of the block, at least 25 feet. She’d seen this dragon immolate an entire house filled with people in one breath. She was no match for this monster, not even with the mightiest help.

Lena looked back at the brothers. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed, her eyes glistening, “I’m so, _so_ sorry.” Farkas started to reassure her, and she wanted to explain, but there was no time. The giant, black dragon flew over the domed barrow, and began to speak, and the barrow exploded in a rain of dirt, snow, and a strange, glowing fire-mist.  It coalesced around a skeletal dragon. Lena told herself to move, to kill the dragon before it was completely resurrected, but fear paralyzed her to the spot.

She didn’t know every word of _Dovahzul_ , the dragon language, but she understood that the large black dragon was called Alduin, and the smaller, newly-risen dragon was Sahloknir. As he regained form and flesh, Sahloknir raised his wings and gave a terrifying roar, pledging fealty to his master. “Do you know what they’re saying?” Delphine asked, white-faced, as she clamped her hand like a vise around Lena’s forearm. Lena didn’t have time to answer, and she wasn’t sure she could have spoken even if she had.

“ _Dovahkiin_ ,”Alduin said almost derisively, as he flew closer to her. As he spoke, she recognized words that might mean “liar” or “false,” and then, _dovah._ Lena wasn’t sure why he called her a false dragon, but her panic rose as Alduin stared at her with slitted eyes. He’ll kill me now, she thought, as she readied her useless Shout.

Lena felt a hand grab hers, and she looked back into Farkas’s strong, gentle face. She nodded, took a deep breath, and found the courage to look back at Alduin, just as the black dragon uttered a sound reminiscent of laughter, said something to Sahloknir that Lena was sure meant “kill them,” and flew away. Sahloknir turned his head and Shouted fire breath at the astonished warriors. Lena had no idea why Alduin left her alive, but her knees almost buckled with relief. “Ready,” Lena challenged, her voice shaking. “Let’s go kill a dragon.”

They attacked from different directions.  Delphine fired arrows at an impressive speed as she ran to the left.  Vilkas and Farkas sprinted around to either side, trying to flank its back end.  Lena stayed right where she was, and Shouted.  “ _Fus Ro **Dah**!_ ”

Sahloknir stumbled in the slushy snow, and the brothers attacked its back legs. “He’s going to try to take off and attack us from the air,” Lena advised Delphine. “Aim for the wings!” Lena followed her own advice. Between the two women, the air was littered with arrows, and the newly-reborn Sahloknir was not quick enough to avoid them.  

Lena raised a hand in the air, and waved the brothers back, out of the way of her Shout. “ _Fus Ro **Dah**_ **!** ” Again the beast stumbled, and this time Farkas took a running leap onto its back, slashing at its wings as it bellowed in anger and pain. “It’s almost down. Let’s finish him!”

Delphine followed Lena closer to the dragon, arrows flying all the way, and a moment later, the monster collapsed.  Farkas rolled off, and ran toward Lena, Vilkas close behind.  Lena walked to Sahloknir and closed her eyes as its flesh burned away and its scales turned to dust, leaving behind the ethereal fire-mist that surrounded her, and sank into her body.  Lena turned to Delphine, aglow with the newly absorbed soul. “Believe it now?”

Delphine’s eyes and mouth were wide, and she looked from Lena to the brothers, and back again. “If I hadn’t seen it for myself, I wouldn’t believe it. Even now, it’s impossible.” She took a deep breath, and stood straighter.  “But you have my allegiance. I’ll tell you whatever you need to know. But, who are these warriors?” She turned toward Farkas and Vilkas. “You fought well,” she said grudgingly.

“I’m Vilkas, he’s my brother Farkas. Lena is our Shield Sister,” Vilkas said, chest puffed out with pride.

Delphine looked at Lena, scandalized. “You’re one of the _Companions?_ Don’t you think that’s a little…imprudent? How can you devote yourself fully to _this_ cause when you’re busy killing bears and bandits and whatnot?”

The cold steel in Lena’s gaze made Delphine step back. “I think you might want to rephrase that.” Lena shook one of her reclaimed arrows in Delphine’s direction, and tried to keep her fire from rising. “I was a prisoner of the Thalmor for fifteen years. They told me what I could and couldn’t do. Who I could befriend, where I could go. _No. More_.” Lena advanced on Delphine. “So, if I want to become Arch Mage, or Guildmaster down in Riften, or a thane of Whiterun, or a bard and sing _all over Skyrim_ , or…or…”

“Jarl of Eastmarch? Oooh…what about Listener of the Dark Brotherhood?” Vilkas threw out, grinning and clearly entertained.

Lena pointed at Vilkas. “Yeah, all those,” she said, as she turned back to Delphine. “You don’t get to tell me I can’t. No one does, never again, understand?”

Delphine was silent.

Farkas cleared his throat. “Doing all those things, though, it would be sort of hard, wouldn’t it?” Lena wasn’t sure whether Farkas was trying to lighten the mood, or just taking things too literally, as he tended to do, but her mouth quivered a bit, and she let go of her fire as she shifted her eyes away from Delphine and toward him.

Vilkas nodded, “Improbable, I would say.”

Delphine looked at Vilkas and cracked a smile, which set off Farkas, and eventually Lena. “What questions do you have?” Delphine asked, in a slightly more relaxed tone.

“So many,” Lena said, wearily. “But can we talk back at the inn?  I want to get out of this armor, and I’m starving.”


	17. Friends and Lovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions are answered, and fluffy plots are hatched.

“First off,” Lena said, around a mouthful of cheesy potatoes, “who are you really? After seeing you shoot like that, I don’t think your first love is innkeeping.”  Before dinner, Lena’d had a glass of wine as she’d changed into a turquoise and cranberry-colored tunic, thick brown leggings, and soft leather boots. She was on her second glass now, and was starting to relax.

Vilkas nodded, smiling. “It was impressive. There aren’t many humans who can beat our Lena at archery, but you might stand a chance.”

“Well, I do really run an inn, but, you’re right, it’s not my first choice of careers.” She looked around, furtively. The inn was quiet except for a crackling fire and pans clattering in the kitchen. They were alone. “How much do you know about the Blades?”

“About as much as we know about dragons,” Farkas mused, fidgeting with leather laces on his own tunic.  The brothers dressed in a similar style, wool and leather tunics and leather leggings. Farkas’s tunic was trimmed in green, and Vilkas’s in black.

“Well, the Blades are connected to the return of the dragons, so your statement is appropriate.” Delphine took an apple from a crockery bowl on their table and cut it into pieces, grinning when Vilkas snagged one. “More than you know. Most people know the Blades as protectors of the emperors of Tamriel, guardians and advisers to the Septims. They made it through the Oblivion Crisis, only to be almost annihilated by the Thalmor.” Delphine’s last word was almost a snarl. She looked up at Lena. “You were a prisoner of the Thalmor, you said?”

Lena wagged her finger. “No, no subject changes, not yet. Are you saying…do the Blades still exist?”

Delphine sighed. “Yes. We’ve handed down the responsibility over 200 years through family, keeping up with lore…training.  Waiting for our time to reform. And that time came just a few months ago when that dragon – Alduin, you said his name was – showed up at Helgen. See, in ancient times, we weren’t just Imperial lackeys. We fought dragons. And now, dragons have returned. So have we.”

“And, you are one of the Blades?” Farkas asked.

“I was, until my uncle died last year. On my thirtieth birthday, I became Grandmaster.” Delphine downed the last third of her wine, and poured another glass. “There are few of us at the moment, but those who swear allegiance to our cause take their orders from me. The innkeeper gig is a cover. Our base of operations is not far away, but the Thalmor are too big of a threat to openly resurface. So we work in secret. For now.”

Vilkas looked from Delphine to Lena, and then to Farkas, almost star-struck. “Five months ago, brother, we really _were_ killing bears and bandits, and now we’re sitting at a table with the dragonborn and grandmaster of the Blades.” He whistled, and took a long drink of mead.

Farkas and Lena rolled their eyes. Delphine, on the other hand, looked flattered. Vilkas was playing right into Delphine’s hand, Lena thought, as she got up to get more bread, sweetrolls, and drinks from the kitchen. Lena knew what Delphine was up to; as they’d changed out of their armor, together in one of the bedrooms, Delphine had asked lots of questions about Vilkas, including whether he was available. Her shield-brother didn’t stand a chance, Lena thought, as she watched Delphine whisper something in Vilkas’s ear that made his cheeks flush and a slow smile play across his face.

Farkas leaned back against the bench he and Lena shared, lazily watching her as she walked back. Almost dreamily, eyes half closed. Lena had never seen Farkas this relaxed, and she wondered if tonight would be a good time for her and Vilkas to put their plan into action. At the last minute he snapped out of his daze and noticed she was carrying a tray and pitchers; he got up quickly, and helped her set them down.

“So, where do we go from here? We know Alduin is resurrecting dragons, and I think I caught something like ‘ancient dominion,’ maybe?” Lena sighed, frustrated. “I have to learn more _Dovahzul_. Some words come instinctively, but it’s not enough.”

Delphine sighed, and reluctantly looked away from Vilkas. “I don’t know, and I hate saying that, but I don’t. We don’t know how many dragons there are, and we don’t know what Alduin’s end game is. Is he working with anyone in Tamriel? Is he looking to retake the world for dragons? That sounds like ancient dominion. And…how is this dragon so powerful that he can bring others back to life? There’s too much we don’t know at the moment, and I’m almost desperate enough to see what the Greybeards know, so we can add it to the picture.”

“What? Why would that be a last resort?” Lena licked icing off the bottom of a warm sweetroll. “What do you have against the Greybeards?” She had her own problems with the old monks; they consistently failed to give her the information she needed, but hopefully after today’s events, that would change.

“They have too much reverence for dragons. Dragons aren’t to be worshipped; they need to be eradicated,” the Blade said firmly, setting her mug down a little too forcefully. “I don’t trust the Greybeards to do what must be done.”

“But they’re teaching me, and I’m supposed to be this perfect dragon killer, right? If they really love dragons, why not just leave me alone to blunder about and eventually let Alduin kill me?” Lena sat up straight and inhaled sharply. “Matter of fact, does anyone have any idea why Alduin didn’t just kill me today? Why fly away? He easily could have ended it. One breath, and it’s over. Boom.”

Lena smacked her hand on the table for emphasis, and jolted Farkas out of his usual silence. “When I’m in a ruin and see an enchanted weapon, I don’t have it destroyed,” he said. “I find out as much about it as possible, and see how I can use it. Or sell it. I don’t know what this Alduin is thinking, but that’s what I’d do.”

Vilkas nodded. “Yeah. And you’re human.  We can be just as ambitious and power-hungry as dragons.  Maybe Alduin’s counting on that. Maybe…he thinks he can get you to join his side.”

The group was silent for a few minutes.  “Power and ambition, hmmm…” Delphine mused. “Humans have it, undoubtedly, but who would you say has the most ambition, the most hunger for power?”

Vilkas and Farkas looked at Lena, and her eyes flickered. “The Thalmor,” she said. “Beyond doubt. There’s nothing they wouldn’t do to get it. ‘Ancient dominion’ would be right up their alley. But why…why would Alduin work with them? Don’t dragons hate… _anyone_ who’s not a dragon?”

Delphine shook her head. “Akatosh was a dragon, if legend is true, and didn’t hate people. Remember, Martin Septim transformed into the avatar of Akatosh to send Mehrunes Dagon back to Oblivion. He couldn’t have done that without Akatosh’s blessing.”

“So, doesn’t that mean there might be some dragons _now_ that don’t hate people? The Greybeards might not be wrong,” Farkas pointed out, frowning and, Lena noticed, clenching his fist around his mug.

“I know, it’s a contradiction,” agreed Delphine, “and one reason why I think we should see what they know.” She scooted her chair back and winked at Lena. “It’s getting late, and I really should be getting back to Riverwood. Once the Greybeards tell you…”

Lena didn’t hear the rest of what Delphine said, because as soon as she’d started talking, Vilkas caught Lena’s eye behind Delphine’s back, shaking his head, and mouthing “no, no, no, keep her here!”

Lena raised her eyebrows and nodded at Vilkas, and interrupted Delphine, just as she’d planned. “Why don’t you stay tonight and ride back with us in the morning? After all, we’re going to be working together, so we should get to know each other better.” Lena looked around the table. “Right?”

Vilkas nodded with a playful smile. “You should definitely stay. It’ll be fun.”

Farkas looked at Vilkas and Lena, and played along, although he wasn’t quite sure why. “Yeah, you should stay. Shield siblings are encouraged to become friends. We do fight better that way.”

Delphine paused, looking at Vilkas, but shook her head. “I don’t have a room, and I didn’t bring camping supplies…”

“But we do,” Vilkas interjected. “We have two, and we’re happy to share.” He moved to push her chair back under the table with one hand and refill her goblet with the other.

Lena noticed that Vilkas touched Delphine’s back as he pushed her chair, and that the fierce Breton didn’t shrug him away. Lena smiled, and glanced sideways at Farkas. “Stay. Please. Everything will work out.”

Delphine smiled at Vilkas, and sipped at her wine.

 

* * *

 

“Vilkas,” Lena called from the bar. “Could you help me carry these pitchers and things?”

“I know we didn’t expect to put our plan into action tonight,” he said a moment later, casually leaning against the bar. “But Delphine and I…”

“Yeah, I can see that. I hope I’m being enthusiastic enough about it; I can’t tell what Farkas is thinking, though.”

“Farkas is a little mad.  I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m being an ass,” Vilkas said, “but he thinks that a lot, so…”

“Yeah, this isn’t how we planned, but it’s close to perfect. I say let’s do it. After our near-death experience with Alduin, I think the time for game-playing and patience is over. I’m going to get two hot ciders, and take Farkas outside in the snow,” Lena said. “How certain are you that you and Delphine will be sharing a room?”

“Oh, fairly. That one isn’t afraid to say what she wants. My kind of woman.”

Lena nodded. “Ok, then excuse yourself at some point, and make sure mine and Farkas’s things are in one room, and yours and Delphine’s are in another. If you two are already gone when we get back in, I wish you good luck.  Although, judging by how she keeps looking you up and down, you will _not_ need it.”

“I have a feeling Delphine plays as hard as she works.  Again, just my type.”

Vilkas carried pitchers of mead and wine back to the table, and moved his chair a little closer to Delphine.  Lena held out two mugs of cider and nudged Farkas with her toe. “Come on, let’s get our cloaks,” she said, and walked back toward the bedrooms.  “Have fun, you two,” she called over her shoulder.


	18. Stay With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena and Farkas walk in the snow, and their wolves begin to take over.

Armored against the cold in leather, furs, and wool, Lena and Farkas walked out into a winter wonderland. Sugary flakes swirled in the light breeze, and tiny icicles and fat, red snowberries glistened in the glow of Lena’s candlelight as it floated above their heads. The cider was hot and delicious, and filled the air with cinnamon-scented steam. “Are you ok?” Farkas said, and motioned with his cider back toward the inn.

“What, with Vilkas and Delphine obviously wanting alone time together? Yes, absolutely. They’re actually kind of perfect for each other,” Lena said, grinning up at him, as they continued down the snowy path.

“Really? That wasn’t what…yeah, I suppose they are,” Farkas considered. “You know, everyone said _you_ and…” He blushed a little as he trailed off, and Lena giggled softly.

“That Vilkas and I were…destined to be together, or something?” Lena scoffed, “Nope, we’re not each other’s types, Farkas. We’re friends, and he’s my brother.” Lena grabbed a low-hanging evergreen branch and shook it gently, watching the icicles sparkle. She couldn’t have asked for a better segue. This was going to be easy, she thought. “You know that, right?”

“I do,” Farkas said, jumping up slightly to catch and swing on a snowy branch with his free hand.

“You…do?” Lena turned toward Farkas, surprised and slightly confused. If he’d known all this time, why hadn’t he…?

“Well, I do _now_. I mean, last night, Vilkas said something to me that made it pretty clear. Before, though, yeah, I figured it was true. Vilkas usually gets the girl, if he puts his mind to it, and I thought that you both wanted to…be together. I’ll admit, I was wrong.”

“So, you know that Vilkas and I were never…” Lena sighed softly in relief, offering a silent, fervent, thank you to Vilkas for his help. “Wait…why were you giving Vilkas the ‘you’re an ass’ look in there, and clenching your mug so hard I thought it was going to shatter, if you didn’t think I would be upset about him and Delphine?”

“I wasn’t. Giving him a look, I mean.” Farkas let go of his branch and landed next to Lena, his eyes flashing. “I’ve been angry all afternoon. That’s what I meant when I asked if you were ok. After what happened with the dragon, back there. Dragons. Well, no, just the  _one_ dragon. The big, black, scary one.”

“What…what were you angry about?” Lena had no idea where Farkas was going with this. Like he had at Valtheim Towers, and after Vignar’s funeral, _and_ at Dustman’s Cairn, Farkas was surprising her again, and Lena was getting more anxious by the moment.

“Remember when we fought that first dragon, outside Whiterun? You'd just come back, and dragons were still legend. And then _you_ turned out to be a legend, too. I was…wary of the magic, you know, but excited. It sounded like an adventure.” Farkas set his mug on the ground, and turned to face Lena, his eyes dark and furious. “But, what happened today…those Greybeards of yours have a lot to answer for. They _have_ to know who Alduin is and what he can do. They kept you in the dark, and it put you in more danger. And for that, I want to run up those 7,000 steps tonight and set that mountain on fire.”

“Maybe you should come with me next time I go? Or…maybe not,” Lena said, thinking it through. “Arngeir insists I’m not ready to know the history, or what’s really going on, but I don’t have a _choice_. Alduin doesn’t _care_ if I’m ready or not. This time, they _will_ tell me what I need to know. No more being cryptic. No more tests.”

The thought of what could have happened with Alduin kept hitting him like a punch to the gut, but Farkas nodded and took a few deep breaths, feeling his anger dissipate a little. It wasn’t helping Lena, and they had a plan to get the information they needed. Although he had to admit, the thought of that mountain in flames did make him feel a little better.

Lena took a sip of cider and wrinkled her nose. “It’s cold. Hey,” she said, her eyes lighting up, “I have an idea!” Lena looked around and found a large, flat, snowy rock just off the path. She set it on fire, melting the snow and drying the surface in one step. She looked up at Farkas and motioned to the fallen tree branches scattered on the path. “Could you gather a bunch of small branches and bring them here, next to this rock? I want to start a campfire. You did say camping was fun, right?”

Farkas was a little confused by what was happening, but Lena seemed happy, so he was, too. They gathered branches and dead leaves into a pile, and Lena streamed fire from her fingers until the wood was dry and crackling with flame. She sat down on the rock and, smiling up at him, pulled Farkas down beside her, placing their cups next to the fire. For a few minutes, they sat in silence, enjoying the fire and warming their hands, and then Lena took a deep breath. “Farkas, I need to talk to you about something, and…I’ve been thinking about it for a while, especially after today. This isn’t what I’d planned to do, but…” Lena broke off, noticing that Farkas looked more fearful than he had while fighting Sahloknir. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you leaving?” he asked bluntly, picking up his warm mug and taking a drink, his heart thudding as he waited for her answer.

“No, nothing like that,” Lena said, noticing Farkas’s heavy, relieved exhale. “I just…wow, this really is harder than I thought.”

“Whatever you need to say, I’m here,” Farkas said, staring into the flames. “But I’m a little nervous, to be honest. You look like you might cry again, and that doesn’t usually mean good news. That’s why I thought you might be leaving. That, and what Delphine said about your responsibilities.”

“Farkas, you weren’t scared when I cried on you at Valtheim Towers.  I cried an entire river last night, and you didn’t run. You stayed until your ass had frozen to the ground, probably,” Lena said, laughing softly. “You’ve faced down three dragons, hundreds of draugr, countless Silver Hand, and I’m sure…bears.  Oh, and Njada and her bottle. You’re a rock. What could you possibly be scared of?”

Farkas opened his mouth to answer her, but when no words came out, he shook his head and closed his mouth again. Lena laughed, “just like the night I came back. I asked you to stay with me, and you were speechless. I’m not leaving. Responsibility might take me away for a time. I don’t know how I’m going to fight Alduin, or where, or when. But I will _never_ -“

Lena broke off as tears filled her eyes and choked her words. “Ok, let’s try this again,” she said, turning to face him, her legs crossed in front of her. “You were right, I _am_ going to cry. I’m not really ok…after Alduin. I thought I was going to _die_ today. I _knew_ it. And…I thought that I’d dragged you into my screwed-up life and gotten you killed too. And Vilkas. Both of you, dead because of me. That’s all I could think about when Alduin was talking. That you would… _die_.  And, because I was scared to tell you, you would never know...”

Farkas took a deep breath, and his eyes shone as he looked at Lena’s face. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lena stopped him. “No! No, I need to get this out, because you have to _know_ , you _have_ to. This wasn’t how I’d planned to tell you, you know? I wanted to be patient, because our situation is…complicated, but…the way we live, the things we have to do…any day could be our last day, and I want you to know, from now until _your_ last day…how much I love you.”

She smiled through the tears streaming down her face as she took his hand in hers. “If I ask you to stay with me now, what would you say?”

He said nothing, but pulled her into his lap, and wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could without hurting her, letting the snow fall and swirl around them. “That night, the night you came back,” Farkas said a few minutes later, “when you asked me to stay, I wanted to say that I would never leave you. How could I?” He laughed softly, as he twined his fingers through her hair. “That’s why I was speechless. I couldn’t say what I wanted to say, and everything else just sounded wrong. But _now_ …” His fingers tightened slightly in her hair to cradle the back of her head, and he kissed her mouth. His lips touched hers with a surprising gentleness, and turned Lena’s blood to fire, warming every inch of her, down to her toes. She rose up on her knees, his thighs between hers, and threaded her fingers through his hair, pulling him down into her growing maelstrom of desire and need. She finally lost control, feeling the wolf inside her desperate to claim her mate. She pushed him back against the rock and kissed him fiercely, molding her body to his.

Lena growled, a low, rumbling noise, and it brought her back to herself, breaking the connection. She pulled back, wide-eyed and gasping. She smelled honey and spices. When Lena looked down at Farkas, she was surprised to see him in control of himself, although his eyes were dark with desire, and his heart raced under Lena’s hands. He smiled that sexy, slow smile and touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. “There’s one more thing we have to talk about tonight, but do you think we might go inside? Camping’s just not as fun when I know there’s a warm bed waiting for me twenty feet away.”

Lena nodded weakly, let him pull her to her feet, and watched him cover the fire with snow. Farkas picked up their cups, and wrapped his arm around her shoulders as they walked back to the inn.   


	19. Delayed Gratification

The inn’s great room was dark except for the banked fire, as Farkas and Lena crept inside. Vilkas and Delphine were nowhere in sight, and neither was the innkeeper.  He hooked a jug of mead from the bar around his finger as they walked toward the bedrooms, where he turned to Lena. “Where are we sleeping?”

Lena walked toward the door on the left, and showed Farkas the sock that Vilkas had looped through the latch. “The other one, I’d say.”

Farkas’s eyes widened, and when comprehension finally dawned, he opened the right-hand door and gently guided Lena inside. “My brother really doesn’t waste any time,” he grinned.

“Delphine and I planned this whole arrangement as we changed out of our armor. Your brother played right into our hands,” Lena said, making Farkas’s grin dissolve into laughter. His easy merriment relaxed Lena, and she looked around the room as she took off her cloak. A large, cheerfully-quilted bed with a red-embered firepit at its foot dominated the cozy space. The walls were decorated with snowberry wreaths and evergreen boughs, and a few paper snowflakes Lena imagined the innkeeper’s daughter had cut and hung up for a Yuletide mood. She turned back to Farkas, who was kneeling by the firepit, lighting several candles in the embers.

Lena wiggled out of her boots, watching him place the candles in their holders and wondering what he had left to say to her. After what happened outside, she hoped there wouldn’t be much more talking left to do. Her wolf had attempted to gain ascendancy, and that scared her a little, but she wanted her mate much, much more. Enough to risk a little fear.

“So,” he began, sitting cross-legged on one side of the firepit.

“Yeah,” Lena answered, starting to cross the room to sit next to him. “Farkas, I-“

“No, stay over there,” he pointed to the other side of the firepit. “Like you said outside, this is something _I_ have to talk through, something _you_ have to know, and if you’re close to me…” he closed his eyes for a moment, fighting for control. “Before things…happen, between us, I want to make sure there are no regrets, nothing you should have known.”

The gravity in Farkas’s voice caught Lena’s attention; he usually tried to keep discussions light or nonexistent, so she sat down where he requested, watching the shadows from the embers and candlelight play across his face. “Ok, your turn,” she agreed, a playful pout on her lips.

“I love you, Lena,” he said, his hands clenched in his lap, “and I loved you _before_ you took the beastblood. It’s important you know that. Do you believe me?”

Lena sat up straight and stared at him. Did he think her love was being compelled? It would be just like Farkas to discount himself like that, she thought. After all, she'd worried about him being mind-controlled into loving her too, at first. She was just going to have to convince him. “Yes, I believe you. I know. Farkas, I _know_.”

Farkas flinched, and he frowned slightly. “That’s exactly what Vilkas said the night of Vignar’s funeral,” he mused.

“Vilkas?” Lena asked, not following his train of thought. “What does Vilkas…oh, you said he told you something…”

“He let me know there was nothing but friendship between you and him. Yeah,” Farkas nodded. “He told me to go to you that night, outside. I was so deep in my own grief, I didn’t think of anything else. _He_ did, though. I...asked him if he wanted to go instead. Because of what I thought he was, to you.”

“What did he say to that?”

“Well, he said he loved you, like a sister, but that I…” he passed his hands close to the embers, almost touching them. “He looked me right in the eyes, so serious, and you know Vilkas is never serious, so that got my attention. He looked at me and said ‘Farkas, I _know_ ,’ just like you did.” He would never forget how those three words had freed him from the constraints he’d imagined were binding him. He was free to court the woman he loved, and even in the midst of his grief, he remembered his soul alight with joy and hope. 

“So, what did he know? That you loved me?” Lena smiled. “Looking back, it was plain to see, so I’m not surprised he knew, too.”

“I think so, but something…else, too.” Farkas exhaled strongly enough to make some of the embers spark back into flame. “There’s something about the beastblood I didn’t tell you, something …important, maybe the scariest thing about being a werewolf. And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t believe it, until it happened to me.”

He looked so uncomfortable, clenching his fists like he was going to crush his own hands. Lena debated letting him get through the whole story, but she decided in the end, to be honest. “Farkas, I…I know about the mating bond. Aela told me. Apparently, I sensed my mate the night of my first turning.” Now it was her turn to be uncomfortable, she mused, as she dried her damp palms on her leggings. “I didn’t know it then…but I sensed him in the distance, in the woods behind the town. A heartbeat, beating with mine, pounding in my head. I smelled blood, and iron…” she grinned at him, “and warm, spiced honey.”

Farkas’s eyes rounded, and he tapped one of his still-clenched fists on his knee. “So all those times you…”

“Yeah,” Lena laughed. “Your scent, to me. Honey, cinnamon, clove, iron…I couldn’t understand it at first, why you always smelled like mead, or honey cakes. And when Aela told me, I _still_ didn’t put two and two together, although looking back now, it seems so simple.” Lena leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “What do I smell like, to you?”

Farkas looked at her, open-mouthed for a moment, amazed at the ease with which she was handling this development, and then swallowed hard. “Fire. Embers. Rosemary. Like a Yuletide wreath hung over a firepit.”

“Where were you that night? When I turned?”

“I was in those woods, not too far in. Skjor and Aela stayed at the underforge door, in case you started to run back toward town. Vilkas and I were in the woods, in case you ran into something you couldn’t handle. So…” Farkas frowned.

“It’s not Vilkas,” Lena said, quickly, shaking her head. “I wanted to make sure, so I talked to him about it. His scent is different. It’s not him.” She noticed Farkas’s shoulders fall in relief, and couldn’t help being a little sad that some part of him still couldn’t believe she wanted him, and not his brother.  

“I…know. I do. It’s just that, the bond doesn’t really form until we’re together as wolves, so there’s always a chance it won’t…”

“No, there’s no chance. It’s you and me. Get used to it,” Lena pointed in his direction with a smile.

Farkas was silent for a moment, and then looked up at her. “There’s one more thing I need to know. Did you- what did you know first? That you loved me, or that you were my mate? You…so much has happened to you, things you can’t control. The Thalmor, being dragonborn…I don’t want to be an obligation, just something else that makes you feel trapped.”

Lena sighed heavily, and stood up. She walked around the fire, and sat next to Farkas, refusing to listen to his protests. “No, I’m not staying away from you anymore. Enough. We’re adults, we’re strong, and we can sit together by the fire without tearing each other apart. There’s time for that later,” Lena said with a wicked, crooked smile. Farkas’s eyes darkened, but he nodded.

“I knew I loved you the day Aela told me about the whole mating thing.” Lena’s smile warmed as she remembered. “You were gone with Njada, and I was grumpy. When she told me, my first response was…terror. Not of _it_ , not really. But, I remember thinking ‘what if it’s not Farkas?’” Lena took one of his fists and uncurled it. “My heart fell to my feet. And that’s how I knew.”

To Farkas, looking at Lena as she spoke was like seeing the sun rise. “I didn’t know you were my mate until tonight, outside on that rock. I suspected, and I hoped…” she closed her eyes and smiled, “but…my wolf… my wolf knew. It was like a missing piece of a puzzle clicking into place.” Lena looked up at the snowberry wreath and sighed. “I keep thinking...if I’d had a normal life, if I’d grown up with my family, I might have known so much sooner what we are to each other. But, what did I know about love? I’m a thirty-one-year-old woman, and I’ve never had a relationship before. No lovers. The whole thing was foreign to me, so I had no idea what I was feeling, or what-“

“You’ve never…” Farkas began, leaning away from her, slightly. “You’ve never…been…”

Lena raised her eyebrows and smirked a little. “Well…how could I? You knew me back when we were kids. All crush, no action. And then...the Thalmor captured me when I was sixteen. I’m lucky, actually, that those bastards didn’t think about me that way. Thank Talos none of them touched me.” Lena shivered. “And since I’ve been back…you’d have known if anything had happened in Jorrvaskr. I’ve spent most of my time with you, because I wanted to.”

“If you’ve never…then, how do you-“ he began, but his question was silenced by Lena’s lips on his.

“No. More. Doubts,” she said, kneeling up and kissing his face to emphasize each word. “Like I said, it’s you and me. We're in love. We’re mates.” She smiled and touched her forehead to his. “It just doesn’t get any better than that.” She stood up and held out her hand, motioning to the bed. “Coming?”

Farkas looked up at the woman he loved, and took a leap of faith. He smiled, grabbed her hand, and pulled her down to lie next to him, kissing her neck and her laughing, joyful lips, his hands busy caressing her back and twining in her hair. “I know we’ll end up in the bed, eventually,” he said, pulling back, “but I want to see your body by the firelight first. And anyway,” he said, smiling and picking at the laces of her tunic, “we have all night.”

 


	20. The Best Thing Ever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the previous few chapters have been leading up to...

“You know,” Lena teased, slipping under Farkas’s shirt and sliding her hands over his muscular torso and broad chest, “I’ve already seen you… _all_ of you…by firelight. One might call that an unfair advantage.” 

“When…” he paused to think, long enough for Lena to sit up and finish unlacing her tunic. He looked down at Lena’s crooked smile. “The baths! You knew I was there?” He helped Lena off with her tunic, and pulled her close, kissing her, unable to get enough of her mouth and her body on his. “I knew you were on the other side, too. But I didn’t know if you knew, so um...”

“I did, and I peeked,” Lena said, and closed her eyes as Farkas slowly kissed a trail from her neck down to her breasts, and then pulled back to look at her.

“You are so beautiful,” Farkas whispered, and straddled her thighs. His hands and mouth covered every inch of Lena’s dusky skin, from the rosy tips of her breasts to the swell of her rounded hips just above her leggings. He took a breast in each hand, gently kneading and rolling her nipples between his fingers as he tugged at the waist of her leggings with his teeth.

Lena moaned, her hands in his hair. “That’s what I thought that night, in the baths. So beautiful, I wanted… It took every ounce of…control to stay on my side.”

Farkas nipped the skin next to her hip, and Lena moaned and pushed against him as he rose to kiss her mouth and neck, his hands loosening the ties of her leggings. “Why did you? Control, I mean? Why didn’t you come?”

Lena lifted her hips, and Farkas had her leggings off in one swift motion. “I…wasn’t sure you wanted me. Remember, total innocent, here? Being rejected while naked in the bath didn’t seem like a good risk.”

He looked at her body, bronze in the flickering light. “Not want you?” He let his fingers play from her shoulders, around her breasts, down to the curve of her waist, and a low growl escaped his throat. He bent down and kissed her belly and hips and pressed his hand against the soft folds between her thighs before covering them with his mouth. He licked and stroked her with his tongue and fingers until Lena’s back arched and her fingers tightened in his hair, bringing Farkas to a breaking point of his own. He picked her up and carried her to the bed. “I wanted to draw this out, to take all night, but…”

“I know. I can’t, either,” she said, pulling his tunic over his head and settling back to watch as he divested himself of his leggings. He was truly a beautiful man, she thought.  Naked, Farkas slid into bed, covering her body with his, and kissing her with a passion that belied his quiet, soft-spoken nature. His hard, rough, and warm weight on her skin was the most comforting thing she’d ever felt, and as she ran her hands down his arms braced at her sides and over his shoulders, she pulled his body even tighter onto hers. She let out a yelp and then laughed as Farkas suddenly rolled her on top of him.

Straddling one of his thighs, Lena sat up and let her head roll back as Farkas stroked her breasts and her waist, letting hands rest on her hips. She bent down and kissed his neck, and as he had earlier, let her hands move slowly over his broad chest and torso as she kissed a trail toward his hips. “When you were bathing, that night, I could feel the water rippling against your hips, back and forth, and all I could think about was doing this.”

She kissed his skin where it stretched tight over his hips, and felt his muscles contract under her mouth. Her hand brushed his erection, and Lena felt light-headed as her blood raced. She wanted him inside her, and as she took him in hand and stroked him, Farkas called her name. As she kissed and licked the length of him, he rolled her over again, and stroked the wet skin between her legs until she was rocking against his hand. She pulled him close and looked into his eyes. “Now, Farkas.”

He nodded, and then hesitated. “Wait,” he said, gasping for breath.

“What? Why?” 

“I…wasn’t planning…uh, babies?” Farkas stammered.

“Not tonight,” Lena assured him, impressed that he gave that matter any thought. “There are potions…I’m an alchemist, you know.” She grabbed his shoulder with one hand and stroked his erection with the other and said, again, “now, Farkas.”

He positioned himself at her opening, and slowly slid inside, stretching her warm sheath around him, and moving slightly back and forth, giving her time to get used to the sensation. She rocked her hips toward him and he pushed all the way in, covering Lena’s neck with kisses and kneading her body with those desperate, yet gentle fingers. Lena had expected it to hurt, from the stories she’d been told, but aside from a momentary pinch as he entered her, it was perfect. She felt herself swelling around him, and as he kneaded her breasts with his strong hands, she lay back and relaxed, letting it all wash over her.

Farkas felt her body relax, and as she closed her eyes and let her hands fall over her head, he thought she was the most beautiful woman alive. He kissed her face, and she smiled at him as he moved within her. Farkas had never been so in love.

 After a few minutes, the swelling became a tightness, and he rose up on one hand and began stroking her with the other, his fingers skillfully teasing her as she felt a sweet tension build. Up, and up, and up, he carried her… and she clung to him, her legs embracing his hips, and her arms wrapped around his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as her climax shuddered through her body.  She was vaguely aware of Farkas calling her name, thrusting fiercely a few more times, and collapsing on top of her as she drifted away on the waves of her release.

 

* * *

 

“Farkas?” a tiny voice said. “I-“

Lena sighed as he slid off of her, giving her room to breathe. “Sorry,” Farkas said, sheepishly, his head resting on one arm, his other hand wrapped around Lena’s waist. “I’ve never been so relaxed that I crushed a woman before.”

“I’ll live,” Lena said, laughing. “That was…my favorite thing I’ve ever done.”

“Yes,” Farkas said, laughing and kissing her collarbone, his hand moving down to her hip, “and I’m not finished with you, yet.”


	21. Cider and Snow and Presents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuletide fluff! Farkas makes his union with Lena public, and discovers some unexpected consequences of the beastblood. Njada does the unthinkable, and Lena and Aela talk about sex.

Lena and the twins returned from Kynesgrove the day before Yuletide, and that next snowy evening found the Companions starting their celebration at the Bannered Mare. Lena sipped wine and watched her friends sing and dance around the evergreen-strewn tavern, her eyes never straying too far from Farkas, remembering...

The past two days were a blur of elation, gratitude…and lust. That last one was no joke – they’d even had to stop the wagon a couple of times on the road and run into the woods. First, they claimed leg cramps. Second, an especially long call of nature. Vilkas understood the need – he’d gotten the skinny on newly-mated werewolves from Aela, back when she’d assumed Vilkas, not his brother, was Lena’s intended mate.

Delphine hadn’t been quite so understanding. How could she, really? But the trip back had been uneventful otherwise, and Lena and the twins welcomed the Blade to the team with open arms. Vilkas seemed especially happy. They made a nice pair – both quick and clever and intense. Lena’d not spoken to him about it, but their night together must have gone well.

Lena blushed. Farkas watched her, too, his blue eyes twinkling in the light of the giant Yule log as he sat, talking with folk they rarely got to see. Matter of fact, the town’s population seemed to have doubled for the celebration. Lena was amused to see her characteristically silent, even gruff, town turn into a social beehive in the Yuletide revelry.

She reluctantly tore her gaze away from Farkas as a loud cough sounded from behind her back. Njada. Speaking of gruff. Lena endeavored to keep her expression pleasant.

“Um, c-can we talk?” Njada stammered, and pointed toward a quiet corner. Lena nodded and followed. They hadn’t spoken since Njada’d accused Lena of using Farkas. It still rankled. When they reached the alcove, Njada turned sharply. “This is hard for me to do, and I swear I’m totally sincere even though my voice might not sound it. I just have that sort of voice. But..." she paused and exhaled. "I owe you an apology.”

Lena’s eyebrows rose so high she thought they’d jump off her forehead. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Yeah. The things I’ve said to you, and about you, since you got to Jorrvaskr were unworthy of the Companions. Now that we know…what we know about Torvar, looking back, I should have seen through his attempt to make trouble,” she said, rolling her eyes. “All his talk about the dragonborn getting special privileges. Even being responsible for bringing the dragons back in the first place. He was out of line. If I had a problem with you, I should have come to you. Things might have ended…differently.”

Lena's body relaxed, tension she didn't even know she carried falling from her shoulders. She had a lot riding on the Companions’ reactions to Kodlak’s statement. He’d taken Lena’s advice and told them the truth. Or as close to it as he could manage without giving the Circle away. But Lena remembered the hitch in the Harbinger’s voice as he tried to deflect suspicion. _He wants to confess. Face the consequences_. One look at Farkas’s wide eyes told her she wasn’t wrong. And if it were only Kodlak’s life at stake…

“So you don’t think…” Lena began, a flicker of hope lightening her heart. She hadn’t known Torvar’d talked her down. But she couldn’t say she was surprised. After Kodlak’s speech, Athis immediately sought her out. Grasped her forearm and assured her she wasn’t important enough to be the focus of a real cult. That the opinion of a bunch of loons didn’t bother him.

Ria’d hugged her the morning they’d left for Kynesgrove, trying to console her. _Her_. Lena’s gut twisted with guilt. So many lies. But Njada…she’d barely glanced at Lena, and had avoided her, until now.

“What, that you’re a necromancer and a werewolf? And Kodlak and the rest of the Circle are werewolves and change every full moon?” Njada scoffed. “Ridiculous. I mean, I guess technically you do use souls of the dead, but I’m pretty sure dragon magic follows different rules. And the Circle might wear that wolfy armor, but that doesn’t make them werewolves any more than my dwarven armor makes me a ballista. Although…” She looked wistful. Dwemer ballistae were incredibly tough to kill.

“Thanks. It means a lot.” Lena grinned and thanked the gods for werewolf myths. She swallowed her pride, just as Njada had, and accepted the apology. And a little responsibility for what she saw as her part in Jorrvaskr’s tragedy. “It would be easy to blame me for Vignar’s death. I should have-“

“No, that’s exactly what they want,” Njada interrupted. “They failed to destroy us directly, so destroying ourselves from within would be playing into their hands. Don’t do it.”

Lena sighed and took a sip of wine. “That goes for you, too. There’s no way to know if coming to me would have done any good.”

“Honestly, that was only part of it. Since I’m coming clean anyway,” Njada grumbled, “my problems with you weren't...really with you, you know? People had just started trusting me and depending on me, but I was still an outsider, really. Just a whelp. And then you came...everything just seemed so easy for you. The dragonborn, so special. So powerful, even the jarl... And the relationship you have with Farkas, and Vilkas, and Kod-“

Lena broke in, months’ worth of exasperation getting the better of her. Easy? The last three and a half months had been anything but easy. “But I was raised here. I’ve known them for-“

“Yes, forever, I know. That’s what I’m trying to say. You were their family for years, and it was stupid of me to see it as a competition. Family doesn’t happen overnight, and eventually that’s what it’ll feel like for me, I just have to give it time.” Njada paused, looking down and blushing.

“Oh, gods. What?” Lena couldn’t imagine what else Njada had to confess. What would make someone like Njada blush?

“Torvar also said you were sleeping your way into the Circle, which was why I came on to Farkas. I thought if I could get in between that…I had no idea you were actually together. Like a couple, together.” She looked up to see Lena’s reaction.

Lena rolled her eyes. “That asshole. At the time, we weren’t together, or even sleeping together. You didn’t break any shield-sister code.”

“Really? You guys always seemed…” Njada paused, searching for the right words.

“Close? Yeah, we’ve known each other since we were six. He was my first real friend, and I guess that friendship just morphed into something ‘else’ before we even knew it was happening.”

Njada nodded, slowly, relieved the apology was over and well received. “Anyway, I hope we can start over. I want to help, you know, with Alduin. When you find out what’s happening,” she said, eyes intense with determination, “don’t keep us in the dark. We are defenders of Skyrim, so let us help defend it.”

Lena smiled. She’d definitely need help taking on Alduin. Farkas, Vilkas, and Delphine were a good start, but it would take more to slay that beast. She didn’t want to put her new family in danger if she could help it, but… “Thank you. And I will. Tell you, I mean. We’re going to see the Graybeards in a couple of days, and this time, they’ll give me the answers we need.”

Njada nodded, smiled, and went back to the party, but Lena sat and brooded on how much danger they’d brought to their fellow Companions. Maybe the beastblood wasn’t such a good idea…maybe Kodlak had a point. They’d caught a lucky break, but it wouldn’t last. The Silver Hand and this blibbering new group would be back.

And they had…reasons. Lena frowned, thinking of the small boy who’d seen his village torn apart. Was it someone who’d lost himself in the beast one night, or one of the feral wolves Lena was accustomed to? It made no difference, really. A child full of hurt often grew up to be a man full of hate, and why should the defenders of Skyrim, as Njada had named them, have any part in this, even with the best of intentions?

She was brooding into her goblet when she noticed a huge shadow on the floor, and looked up at her smiling mate. “Anything wrong?” he said, motioning back toward the bar where Njada sat, “I saw you guys talking…” Farkas had dreaded the looming confrontation between his mate and the woman who’d tried to seduce him. For a man who didn’t mind bludgeoning people who deserved it, he had an unusual disinclination for conflict.

“No, things are fine. She actually apologized to me. I think everyone’s right – the world might be ending,” Lena said, laughing. She let him pull her up into his arms, holding her goblet out so it wouldn’t be crushed. “I have been a little quiet tonight, so much to think about. We got lucky, you know, that everyone seemed to believe us,” she said, lowering her voice, “and that the death toll wasn’t higher.”

“Yeah,” Farkas whistled. “The more I think about it, the more I think Kodlak might be right…” he broke off and watched her smile grow. “What?”

“I was thinking the same thing, before you came over,” Lena mused, serious once more. “When we know more about what’s going on with Alduin, we should all figure out what we want to do, what we should do. If we have to lie, and endanger our shield-siblings to keep this secret, is it really a secret we want to keep?"

Farkas nodded. “The next Circle meeting’ll be interesting,” he said, draining the last sip from his mug and taking her goblet. “For now, I think the party’s about to move outside. I’ll get us a couple of warm drinks and we can head out? Should be fun.”

Whiterun, in late Evening Star, had its fair share of snow. But on Yuletide night, the snow seemed especially magical, accompanied by merry townspeople wearing snowberry wreaths in their hair, carrying candles, and stealing kisses under the Gildergreen.

Vilkas stayed behind in Jorrvaskr with Kodlak, since the doors never locked, and someone needed to be there in case of emergencies. But the rest of the Companions walked through town singing and talking, and buying sweets and gifts from market vendors. Farkas bought a delicious pastry-wrapped baked apple from Carlotta’s stall, and Lena bought a beautiful blue and gray striped scarf from Belethor, who still had no idea who she was. Lena didn’t care.

She draped the scarf over Farkas's cloak as they walked through the village, watching some kids as they built snowmen near the gates. They refilled their ciders at the Drunken Huntsman, where Aela and Skjor were talking with a band of hunters. Farkas looked their way and stiffened. “Werewolves,” he whispered. Lena nonchalantly glanced over, and the hunters were looking their way. Aela and Skjor nodded, and the group looked away as Skjor snapped his fingers.

On their way back up to the Gildergreen, Farkas and Lena didn’t notice they were the object of more stares than the snow, candles, and merrymakers combined. It was rare to see the towering, quietly-handsome Nord out with a woman (and out of his armor). And the fact that he walked arm-in-arm and smiling with the powerful new warrior-mage (the first in Companions history) was a tasty bit of news. They fed the gossip mills a little more when they stopped and kissed under the Gildergreen, amid candlelight and what seemed like hundreds of torchbugs, drawn to the warmth of the firelight and crowds.

Pulling back from their kiss, Farkas touched Lena’s cheek, and his eyes darkened a little as she shivered and leaned into his fingers. “Let’s head on back home, are you ready?” he asked with a shake of his head toward Jorrvaskr. “I have a Yuletide gift waiting for you there.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lena stretched like a cat and rolled over, grabbing the pillow next to hers and hugging it to her side as she dozed a bit, feeling lazy and loving every second. Farkas had awakened a few hours earlier to hunt with Aela, leaving her warm and cozy for an unusual late morning. She was just about to force herself to sit up when she heard a knock. “Come in,” she said, yawning.

Aela opened the door. “Farkas is cleaning up, and said you’d be here…”

“I’m awake, come on in,” Lena motioned to the chair to her right. Aela sat near the front of the seat, her hands braced on the edges, fingers tapping against the wood.

“That’s certainly a big change,” she said, nodding toward the bed.

Lena nodded happily. Farkas’s Yuletide gift to her had been a comfy platform bed in his room big enough for both of them, and their wolves, too. He’d bought linens – beautiful snowberry-red sheets and a creamy wool quilt with green piping around the edges. He’d even cleaned out a cupboard and moved her belongings. “I had no idea he was planning this; I love it. I also love not sleeping in the whelps’ dorm anymore, even though Njada and I are getting along better now.”

“I heard she ate a lot of crow last night. That’s a pretty big statement. The bed, and the move, I mean.”

“Yes,” Lena said, feeling a strange surge of protectiveness. “We are mates now, after all…not that everyone can know about that, so I suppose it is big news…”

“Right,” Aela said. “Look, I’m sorry about telling Vilkas…it was none of his business and I assumed it…that it was something he needed to know. We should have kept out of it.”

So that’s what has Aela so fidgety. “Maybe, but you weren’t the only ones to make Farkas think my affections lay elsewhere. I didn’t help matters with my shyness and ignorance, and at the end of the day, he makes his own choices.” Lena shrugged and hugged the blanket closer to her chest. “And anyway, we got there eventually, just a little slower than both of us wanted.”

“How…did all that go? I know we’ve not been…close, but you’re the only other woman here who’s mated, and I’m curious.” Aela said, shifting on her chair.

Lena laughed. “I don’t mind, if you’ll tell me your story, too. You’re right…I’m curious, and I wish I’d asked before. Vilkas said I should.”

Aela nodded, and Lena continued, picking at the laces on her blue wool nightshirt. “We started…everything in our human forms. There was a lot of talking, which is weird, given that I was with Farkas, but we had a lot to talk about, and one thing led to another, and eventually, thank the gods, to bed. Earlier that night, I’d wanted to shift outside and run in the moonlight with him, but after Alduin and the talking and…everything else, we both just wanted to sleep.” Lena laughed, remembering.

“We shifted in our room. It was so strange…I saw the wolf, but I could see Farkas underneath, sort of like the wolf is an illusion around Farkas’s body? He said he saw the same thing when he looked at me. We both glowed for a few seconds, and I felt something…settle. Like the last piece in a puzzle.” Lena looked up at Aela, who had drawn her knees up to her chest and was listening intently. “Anyway, we snuggled for a bit, and went to sleep as wolves. I awoke feeling more rested than I have in a month.”

Aela smiled. “It’s a heavy comfort, sleeping next to your mate. There’s nothing like it.” She dropped her knees and crossed her legs at the ankle, leaning her chair back against the wall. “My mating with Skjor wasn’t like yours. I fought it every step of the way. Skjor is almost ten years older than I am, but he was newer to the Companions, and I’d been in the Circle for about three years before he was admitted, and took the blood. Before that, we had a flirty, banter-y, affectionate relationship.”

Aela lowered the chair and raised her eyebrows. “Sort of like the one you have with Vilkas. Maybe that’s why we thought you’d end up together, we saw ourselves in you. Anyway, I liked that. I wasn’t ready for permanent. So, after a few months, our hunts and runnings became too intense, and I started smelling his scent everywhere I went, so I left.”

Lena gasped. “You left Jorrvaskr?”

“I left the Hold,” Aela said, shaking her head. “Kodlak had told me some of us mated, so I knew the signs, I knew what to look for, and I didn’t want it. I went to Markarth.” She leaned back, remembering. “I spent so many nights in agony at the inn, or hunting in the woods, trying to ignore the pull of Skjor’s blood.” She looked at Lena, her eyes carefully blank. “Those wolves you saw us with at the Huntsman last night were from those days. They have a hideout in the mountains south of the city. Anyway, I failed miserably, and so did he. He came running for me one night, all the way from Whiterun. I was out hunting, in beastform, and I smelled him coming. I started to run away, and then just couldn’t run anymore. I stopped and faced him, and that was that. Boom, shackled for life.” She laughed. “It was worth it, though.”

“You know, normal humans at least have the option of putting on that damned Amulet of Mara before they’re in for life,” Lena mused.

“Do you think you and Farkas will make it official?” Aela asked.

“More official than a blood bond? I’m not sure an amulet can top that, but I know what you mean.” Lena thought for a moment. “Maybe, I mean, there’s no reason not to, right? Although, it feels weird thinking about being married and living at Jorrvaskr. There was a little house for sale in the village. Maybe if we do decide to marry, we can buy it.” Lena found the idea of having a home with Farkas deliciously inviting, a pretty dream in the middle of all the challenges they faced.

“Possibility,” Aela said, leaning forward. “So, just ignore me if this question is rude, but I’ve heard lots of women talk about Farkas over the years, but never one who’s actually been with him; I can tell when they’re lying. What’s he like?”

Lena blushed a little, but liked the idea of talking about him with a girlfriend. She’d never had a girlfriend before, and the concept had her a little giddy. “He’s…exactly like he is, out of bed, just…naked, which is glorious. Everything that bard in Solitude still sings about. But aside from that, he’s warm and gentle when he needs to be. He lets me be who I am and, and…there’s this thing he does with his teeth. I guess he’s not gentle when that’s called for, too,” she said, laughing along with Aela. She looked down for a moment, and then back up, biting her lip. “You said, when you told me about…all this, that you hoped my mate was worthy of me. Well, he is, and then some.”

They chatted for a little while longer about their plans for the next few days, random missions, and Lena's trip to High Hrothgar. Aela was just getting up to leave when the door opened, knocking against the stone wall, and Farkas strode in, eyes wide and dark. Lena's heart lurched; he looked angry.

But Aela seemed to know exactly what was going on, and skipped a little as she went to the door, quickly as she could. “Oops. Yeah…should have known that would happen, given how we were talking. Don’t worry, Farkas will explain.” He started to shut the door, but Lena could hear Aela, say, through her laughter, “probably later, though!”

Farkas watched Lena, barely able to keep from shaking, and tried not to alarm her. “Do you mind if I get back in bed?”

Lena cocked her head to the side and smiled, relaxing a little. “I will never mind that, but…”

“Aela’s right,” he said, “I’ll explain later.” He tore off his clothes as quickly as he could, hopping on one leg as he struggled out of his leggings. He slipped Lena’s nightshirt off and slid into bed, covering her body with his, and pinning her tightly to the soft mattress. His hands held hers above her head, and he kissed her with a fury she hadn’t seen in him before, but that wasn’t unwelcome, and her barely-kindled desire spread like wildfire through her body. She arched her back, and he buried his face in her neck.

“Hmmm…you smell so…gods,” he rasped, his voice husky and low. Lena wrapped her legs around his hips, and pulled her arms out of his grip, lacing her fingers around the base of his neck. Farkas kissed her breasts, nipping her skin. Lena drew her breath in, sharply, and moaned with pleasure as he thrust into her, just on the edge of savagery. She looked into his eyes, and they were still dark, and almost desperate with need.

“Farkas,” she began, gasping with her own need, “are you…?”

“Yes,” he said, kissing her neck, “I just...” He rolled over and grabbed a pillow, tossing it on the floor. Lena yelped as he picked her up and placed her, kneeling, on the pillow, and dropped to his knees behind her. He re-entered her with one swift thrust, one hand kneading her breasts and the other stroking the bundle of nerves between her thighs, both arms holding her tight against his ribs. She let her head fall back to rest alongside his shoulder and closed her eyes, the feeling of being completely under his control extremely arousing, and it wasn’t long before she felt that familiar tightness. Her orgasm slammed through her body, followed shortly by his own, and he held her, his arms wrapped tightly around her, both breathing heavily as they recovered.

After a few minutes, he picked Lena up and collapsed with her into bed. “So, that was different…” she said, laughing softly.

Farkas took a few more deep breaths. “Remember in Kynesgrove when you asked me what you smell like?”

Lena propped her head up on her pillow. “Yes, rosemary and fire. Nice.”

“Well, not just that, not all the time, anyway. You know, we have good senses of smell. You just don’t always notice, because it would be…too much. Take a deep breath now. What do you smell?”

Lena breathed deeply. “Breakfast. Steel. Fire, from the kitchens and the greatroom. Fur-“

“Yes,” Farkas said, slowly, “but try to go underneath. Try to scent things that aren’t just…things. Focus on people, not what they’re wearing, but…this is hard to explain.” He scratched the stubble on his cheek. “Maybe focus on emotions?”

“I’ll try,” Lena said, taking another deep breath and thinking for a few minutes, her eyes closed. She’d smelled emotions on people before, but she’d not tried to. It was tougher than she thought. “Oh, that’s weird. Fear, there’s a lot of fear. I don’t know who’s feeling these things…anger. There’s happiness…possessiveness? Is that a thing?” She tried to focus on Farkas only. “Satisfaction, that…possessiveness again.” She opened her eyes and looked at him, questioning. “I’m not sure if I’m describing that right.”

“You smell signals people put out. All people send them, but not everyone can smell them. Most people just see the actions that go along with them. I don’t know what they’re called. Emotions like anger, fear, jealousy, happiness…lust…” and he looked at her and grinned.

“Wait…” Lena pushed up on her elbows. “Are you telling me you can smell when I’m…ready?”

“No, not like that,” he said, “it’s not like I can smell you, that would be weird. But I smell that signal when you’re…aroused. And…for a newly-mated male, it’s hard to resist. That’s why I burst in and Aela had to leave, and I…jumped you.”

“But…we’ve barely left the bed since we came back from Kynesgrove, and you haven’t reacted like that.”

“I know. Skjor and I were cleaning our gear when it happened, and I…growled a little,” he said, embarrassed, remembering Skjor’s laughter. “He could barely stop laughing enough to tell me what was going on. He said…it was because I wasn’t with you. That possessiveness you were sensing? Yep, that’s it. Supposedly, I’ll calm down in a month or so.”

“Could you tell when I was…aroused…before we mated?” Lena thought back to all the times she could remember, and wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer.

“Yes,” he said, sheepishly, “but I had no idea of knowing why you were. Like at Dustman’s Cairn, I assumed it was because of the Fire Breath shout you just learned. Intense stuff like that arouses people sometimes. Like needing sex after a battle. Just happens.”

Lena colored slightly as she remembered. “No, it was you. You touched my cheek to brush soot off my face, and I felt…heat. Starting in my belly and radiating... It wasn’t the Fire Breath.”

“There were a couple of times after that, and the baths. But again, I didn’t know if it was for me…in fact, I thought it wasn’t. So I couldn’t intrude. That wouldn’t be right.” He stroked her hair and kissed her mouth firmly, but gently this time, his tongue barely brushing her lips. “But now…I think I can assume…?”

Lena pulled her pillow under her head, and snuggled up next to him. “You’d better,” she said, and dozed off, smiling happily.

 


	22. It's a Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena, Delphine, and the twins visit High Hrothgar and make the Greybeards angry, and they send the foursome to talk to their master, who has some interesting information for Lena and Farkas. This chapter also imparts a little insight into what's going on in Vilkas's head, and sets up a choice they're all going to have to make sooner than they'd like to.

Vilkas felt something tickle his hip. He yawned, stretched, and reached under the covers to grab the hand of the pretty Breton waking up next to him. Rolling over and taking Delphine’s arm with him, he pretended to go back to sleep, and she tickled his ribs with both hands until he rolled back over and retaliated in kind. “Stop…stop!!!” she said, laughing and wriggling, trying unsuccessfully to fend him off. “I’m going to pee.”

  
“You started it,” he said. But he moved his hands up to smooth her dark hair back from her face, and kiss her good morning.

  
“Hmmm…I wish we could stay in bed all day.” Delphine yawned and stretched, her arms wrapping around Vilkas, her head resting on his chest. “When are they arriving?”

  
“Way too early. But if we want to hit the top of the mountain and get back before dark, we have to leave before sunup,” he said, kissing the top of her head. He closed his eyes. The week after Yuletide had found him missing Delphine, and he’d walked to Riverwood after making arrangements with his brother to meet them on their way to High Hrothgar. He was due some time off, and they'd had to delay the trip anyway. Lena'd caught some illness and had been in bed all week. “But when we get back, I want a repeat performance of last night.”

  
Vilkas grinned as he remembered how Delphine had watched him chop firewood just after dusk the previous evening. A shirtless man wielding an axe in the backyard had an interesting effect on women, he thought. They’d missed dinner and last call.

  
“Deal, as long as you chop more wood,” Delphine said, throwing back the covers and skipping over to the wardrobe. “I’m glad we packed last night.”

  
“Yeah,” Vilkas said, still groggy and clumsily pulling on leggings and his tunic on a bench near the firepit. “We still have to get the horses from Alvor.”

  
“The blacksmith? Why?”

  
“They needed new shoes, and should be waiting for us in the little shed behind his forge.” Vilkas looked up, and she’d already dressed, not only in tunic and leggings, but her leather armor as well. He narrowed his eyes at her. “You know, morning people are not to be trusted.”

  
She scowled playfully. “Not everyone is a nocturnal animal, you know."

 

Vilkas looked down at his boots. For a minute, he'd thought she _knew_...but she _couldn't_ know. He’d developed feelings for Delphine, but wasn’t sure she was the type of person who could handle being involved with a werewolf. He’d have to tell her before things went too far, but Vilkas felt his stomach clench at her innocent remark, and realized that was a conversation he didn’t look forward to having.

  
They walked into the dark pre-dawn, and headed to the blacksmith, packed and fully armored. Alvor opened the door at their knock. Vilkas was surprised to see Farkas and Lena already sitting at the table, having breakfast, or second breakfast, if he knew his brother. Lena raised her coffee mug in greeting and motioned them over.

  
“I didn’t know you and Alvor were acquainted,” Delphine said, taking off her gloves and greeting her neighbor. Alvor could be found in the inn most Loredas evenings and was a good customer and friend. She and Orgnar weren’t very handy at fixing broken things, and Alvor worked for mead. It was a beneficial relationship.

  
“Vilkas, remember I told you about Hadvar, the Imperial soldier who helped me escape Helgen?” Lena said, carefully, hoping Vilkas would understand her need for diplomacy. “Alvor is his uncle, and a friend. I wanted to say hello, but I also need the Empire’s help. With Alduin, I mean, and Hadvar has good contacts. I was hoping Alvor would know where he is.”

  
“You mean the one who-“ Vilkas stopped abruptly at Lena’s eye roll. “Oh. Good idea.”

 

* * *

 

  
The journey started easily enough, wolves and bears apparently sleeping or just smart enough to give the armed warriors a wide berth. As the road rounded up toward Helgen, Lena started to tense up a bit. Farkas’s horse nickered as he rode a little closer, close enough to touch her thigh. She looked over at him, nodding and smiling in what she hoped was a brave, reassuring manner, although she felt anything but.

  
“Are you going to be ok?” Delphine said, falling back a few paces. “This…can’t be easy for you.”

  
Lena gripped Farkas’s hand and nodded again, breathing deeply. “It will be fine. After all, if I can’t face Helgen again, I certainly have no chance standing up to Alduin.”

  
The city gate hung off its hinges, and as the sun came over the horizon, the group could see the destruction still visible under the fallen snow. Ashes and debris covered the burned-out town. Lena tried not to look, but couldn’t help turning her head toward the crumbled stone building where Alduin had landed, as she’d lain there with her head on the block. And the house across the street, now just a lump of blackened rock, where Alduin’s fire breath had melted it. She could still hear the screams, and the roar of the dragon.

  
Something flitted through her memory and she gasped out loud, but it flew away as the sun glinted on something shiny, high in one of the ruined towers to their right. “Shields!” she shouted, and fired on what she assumed was a bandit. He toppled from the tower as three more bandits came out, swords raised. Farkas and Vilkas started to charge, and Lena and Delphine’s arrows took out one, and two more at the rear gates. Farkas ended up kicking one in the face and bashing him with his shield, and Vilkas’s sword quickly found a home in the last. They rode in silence on their way out of the ruins.

  
Lena almost wished for more bears or bandits as they crossed the still, snowy pass. At least they would keep her mind off Alduin, her fears, and her weariness. She tried to remember the fleeting memory from Helgen. It kept dancing this way and that in her mind. She could never catch it, but it set off a sinking feeling in her stomach, like she’d forgotten something essential. Mercilessly, the remainder of the journey passed uneventfully, and soon they crossed the bridge into Ivarstead.

  
After paying Wilhelm at the Vilemyr Inn to stable their horses, the group set off across the bridge out of town, and up the mountain. This was Delphine and Vilkas’s first trip, and they marveled at everything from ancient tablets describing the journeys of heroes and dragons throughout history, to ice wraiths that left behind lacy icicles as they died.

  
Lena and Farkas were heavily silent. They’d seen the tablets before, and were not diverted by wraiths or the frost troll who tried, unsuccessfully, to intimidate them by beating his chest. Vilkas actually laughed at it, making it angry enough to charge them, running too far and falling off the trail to the rocky cliffs below. Farkas was worried for Lena. She'd been sick; he hoped it was due to all the pressure she was under, but worried it might be something more serious. Danica and Arcadia were even stumped. No matter how long she slept, even in wolf form, she couldn’t shake the weariness, and her bones had started to ache, even after they started spending their evenings in the hot, comforting baths. Fire leaped to her eyes more often. And sometimes to her hands.

  
Lena worried about the looming confrontation between Delphine and the Greybeards. She’d mellowed out a good deal since their first meeting, but the two factions had long histories of discord, and like Farkas, she shied away from conflict whenever possible. Delphine was too fiery to be predictable, and Lena desperately needed the Greybeards’ help.

 

* * *

 

  
Lena lead the way as they opened the heavy doors to High Hrothgar, silently walking toward the center of the room where the four men rose to meet the group, looks of unease crossing their wrinkled and bearded faces. “Arngeir, Borri, Wulfgar, Einarth…” Lena nodded at each man in greeting, “you remember Farkas, my shield-brother. I would introduce two others who are sworn to help. My other shield-brother, Vilkas, and…Delphine.”

  
Arngeir stalked over and stood between the two women, gesturing at the faded emblems on Delphine's worn, leather armor. “What is the meaning of this, Dovahkiin?” he spluttered. “Bringing a Blade into our sanctum?” The other Greybeards rumbled in discontent, but remained quiet.

  
Lena sighed. This was going to be exactly as complicated as she’d feared. “Arngeir, I realize the history between your-“

  
“You realize _nothing_ ,” Arngeir spat, shocking Lena and Farkas with his anger. “The only history that concerns me is the Blades’ long one of using the dragonborn, of trying to turn them down the path of arrogance…and violence. Is this who you have been consorting with during your absence?”

  
“Excuse me,” Lena said, still trying to stay polite, “I am not an infant, nor am I a tool to be used by anyone. Yes, Delphine helped me find out what’s happening, how the dragons are reappearing. Do _you_ know how? They’re being brought back to life, being resurrected. By Alduin. Did you know this?”

  
“We know about Alduin, but...you are not _ready_ , Dovahkiin,” Arngeir spread his hands in a pacifying gesture. “You are powerful in the voice, but inexperienced. To delve too deeply before you’re ready invites hubris. We know. This is what happened the last time Alduin inhabited this plane.”

  
“That may be. But we saw Alduin resurrect a dragon a few weeks ago, and he could have killed me, Arngeir. Easily. I can’t run from him, and I can’t fight with no equalizing weapon. I’m sick of seeing him hurt people. Sick of burnt corpses on the roads, of towns terrorized by rising dragons. It has to stop, and if the Blades are willing to help...”

  
“Alduin is the World Eater, Dovahkiin. There…may be no way to stop him. This is his destiny, and you must discover yours.” Arngeir said, folding his hands inside the sleeves of his robe.

  
Vilkas looked from Delphine to Arngeir and then to Lena, and warily noticed fire in both women’s eyes. In Lena’s case, literal fire. He walked forward, trying to keep everyone in his sight. “Do you want the world to end? Because I don’t. And if there’s any chance this can be avoided, Lena needs to know. Isn’t there anything you can tell us?”

  
Arngeir looked at the group, too angry to speak. A rumble of words echoed behind them, and Lena recognized ‘Dovahkiin’ and ‘Paarthurnax,’ but wasn’t sure what the last word meant. “Thank you, Einarth,” Arngeir said with a bow and a sigh, “for reminding me of my duty.” He looked back to Lena and motioned to the double doors leading to the courtyard. “You must speak to our master. He is the one to tell you about Alduin, and if there is any way to…stop him.”

  
When they reached the courtyard, Lena noticed a gate to their right blocked by a windstorm. Arngeir walked near, and burned three words of power into the cobblestones, instilling his knowledge of the words into Lena. Her dragon soared within. For a few minutes, she forgot about her tired, achy body and foggy brain as the fire fed her soul. Souls. “This Shout will assist you in your climb to the Throat of the World, which is where our master resides.”

  
All four Greybeards moved to stand close to Lena, and Arngeir raised his eyebrows and looked at her as sternly as he could. “The Blade is your responsibility, Dovahkiin. You have brought her to this place, and I must warn you, should she attempt to harm our master, she will die. Her life is in your hands.”

  
Lena nodded, and after a moment Delphine inclined her head as well. The foursome started out.

 

* * *

 

  
Farkas hooked his arm around Lena’s back, supporting her as she stumbled up the mountain. The storms surrounding the peak and the Shouts to clear them took Lena’s stamina at an astounding rate, and it wasn’t long before she let him support her almost completely. After an hour’s climb, they finally reached the top of the mountain, Farkas carrying Lena in her exhausted state. She looked around and saw a giant word wall, but no habitation for any Greybeards master. “I’m ok, set me down,” she said, kissing him in thanks.

  
As she walked slowly toward the wall, she heard a rush of wings from above, and stared, open-mouthed, as a golden dragon landed ten feet away. He was as large as Alduin, but much, much older. The Greybeards’ warning suddenly clear, she whirled around just as Delphine drew her bow. “No! Please, no. They warned us, he’ll kill you if you strike him, Delphine. Trust me, please. If that dragon,” she said, pointing toward the giant beast, “had meant us harm, it would have come from the air. Please. I need help, Delphine. _Please_.”

  
The angry Blade took a deep breath and lowered her bow. “Those old men should have told us. Told us what their master is.”

  
Lena nodded, secretly wishing she could give Arngeir a swift kick in the robe. “I agree. But please…we need answers, and who better to give them?”

  
She backed away from Delphine, and nodded at Vilkas and Farkas, taking a deep breath as she turned to face Paarthurnax. “I...we didn’t expect you to be a dragon.”

  
“I am as my father, Akatosh, made me,” he said in a deep, rumbling voice. “As are you…Dovahkiin.”

  
Lena exhaled as she paced before him. “If you know who I am, you know why I’m here. Alduin…I have to stop Alduin from destroying our world. Can you help me?”

  
“ _Drem_ …patience, Dovahkiin. We are of the _dov_ ; there are formalities to observe in our greetings.” Paarthurnax turned to the word wall and breathed fire upon it, and within moments, the flames had coalesced into one glowing word. He turned back toward Lena. “The power calls you. Go to it.”

  
Lena strode to the wall, letting the flames swirl around her and sink into her skin. She heard Paarthurnax laugh as she exulted in the fire. “A gift, if you are Dovahkiin. Understand fire as the _dov_ do.”

  
Farkas looked on in awe as her body transformed into flame. When she was Lena again, the dragon called to her. “Well? _Grohiik Vokun_ , are you Dovahkiin or not? Show me what you can do. Greet me, not as mortal, but as _dovah_!”

  
Lena turned toward the wall and Shouted. “ _Yol Toor_!” A gout of flames slightly smaller than Paarthurnax’s own raged from her body and splashed over the stone arc. Lena turned toward Paarthurnax and smiled, breathing heavily. She hoped a greeting in fire boded well for his help; surely he wouldn’t teach such a violent shout if his guidance was of pacifism and acceptance, like that of his protégés.

  
“Yes…ah, _yes_ ,” the elder dragon rumbled. “The blood runs strong in you. It has been too long since I have had the pleasure of speech with my own kind, other than my elder brother, and we will come to him, in time.” Paarthurnax bowed his great head and lay down in the snow. “Tell me, _draal_ , why must you stop Alduin from doing as he was perhaps made to do? Maybe this world must die to give birth to a new one. Would you stop the new world from being born?”

  
Lena huffed. “I like this world, and I don’t want it to end. The next world will just have to take care of itself.”

  
“You are _joor_ , mortal, and are gifted with limited sight. Yet, it is a fair answer,” he nodded and rumbled again. “It is _pruzah_ , you did not speak of prophecy or destiny, Dovahkiin. They are…tiresome.”

  
“I’m not sure of my destiny, if I even have one. As far as I know, this world is all I have. I must stop Alduin. Please…is there anything…any help…” Lena understood the old dragon’s need for conversation, but she wished he would give her more practical information. There was time for philosophy later, surely. She motioned toward her friends. “These people, these _joor_ , are my friends, my family. Farkas and Vilkas are…my brothers. Delphine is a member of an ancient brotherhood and is sworn to help. Please…”

  
“I know a Blade when I see one, Dovahkiin. And brothers, eh?” He laughed, louder this time. “I know of brothers. Alduin, yes. The elder brother. Grasping, ambitious, yet insecure for one so…gifted. In ancient times, he was the favored of our father and loved by many, but it was never enough.”

  
“Alduin is your elder brother?” Vilkas asked, surprising everyone. “How is he…and you…” Even silver-tongued Vilkas was unsure how to tell a dragon he looked old.

  
“How have I aged so, while Alduin and the others appear so young? That is…information I may not share with you at this time,” he said, and turned to Lena, noting her gestures of impatience. “I said ‘at this time,’ Dovahkiin. After our speech is concluded, I would speak to you alone. You and your _ahmul_ ,” motioning to Farkas, “have many choices to make. Difficult choices.”

  
Farkas looked at Paarthurnax. “So that book is right? I always thought it was written by someone who’d had too much mead.” He noticed everyone was staring at him, including the dragon, and color rose to his cheeks. “What? I read, sometimes,” he said, turning to Vilkas. “Did you never read that book Vignar had? ‘Alduin is Real and He Ent Akatosh’ by someone…Iron-head or something. About how Alduin is bad and Akatosh is good, and they’re not the same dragon. I’d hope so. I wouldn’t think Akatosh would want the world to end.”

  
“Who knows what the Lord of Time desires? But time…is more than you can comprehend, and that is as it should be. Alduin sees time as it is, clearly, and it may…be his undoing.” He turned back to Lena and crossed his forearms under his great maw. “Do you know, Dovahkiin, that Alduin recognized you from your first meeting? In fact, he is the reason you are here speaking with this old _dovah_ today.”

  
Lena gasped and Farkas placed his hand on her shoulder to steady her as she rocked back. “That’s it…I remembered that today, at Helgen, but I couldn’t...” she whispered. “He _knew_. He looked right at me, like he was studying me. He knew who I…” She straightened and swallowed hard. “Then, _why_? Why didn’t he just kill me? And when I found him resurrecting Sahloknir, why let me go?”

  
“Remember, Dovahkiin, what I said about prophecy and destiny? So tiresome. Alduin has done much searching, much…thinking in his time…away. He took the prophecy to heart, to soul. Not only _may_ Dovahkiin defeat him in battle, but he believes that there _must_ be a battle, a final battle, between you and him. Only then can he fulfill his destiny.” Paarthurnax laughed, shaking his great head. “He has always been so concerned with himself, _his_ destiny, _his_ accolades, and that, Dovahkiin, may be his downfall.”

  
Lena looked, silently, at Vilkas, Farkas, and Delphine. Delphine turned toward Paarthurnax. “Could Alduin be working with other races here in the world? There are some who would think to use dragons to their own benefit.”

  
“The only denizen of this world Alduin cares about is the Dovahkiin, which is why he has not brought it to annihilation. It may have been Akatosh’s plan, a safeguard to keep Alduin in check." Paarthurnax huffed, tendrils of steam escaping his jaws. "He would not accept assistance from what he considers lesser races; I do not believe he would even accept worship, as he considers what happened in ancient times a betrayal, rather than a comeuppance. No, Alduin is alone. Always, forever. _Unahzaal_... _krosis_.”

  
Lena peered closely at the giant dragon, and thought she saw a glimmer of tears in his golden eyes.

  
“Now,” he said, looking at Vilkas and Delphine, “it has been a privilege to meet friends of Dovahkiin, but I must ask you to start down the mountain and allow the three of us to speak of personal matters.” He shouted the same shout Lena used to open the whirlwind at the base of the mountain. “The way will be clear for you until you reach High Hrothgar, on my honor.”

  
They nodded at Paarthurnax and then Farkas and Lena. “We’ll be waiting, brother.”

  
Paarthurnax waited a few minutes, and then turned to Lena. “You will need help, Dovahkiin, and much of that I can provide, and you will have allies, as did Dovahkiin of old. But…you will meet him in the end.” He paused, and stretched his neck so his nose was a foot away from Lena’s. “And you will not survive in your current…condition. I told you that much help I could provide, but you must help yourself as well.”

  
“What do you mean, my condition? And what is _ahmul_? Why is Farkas my _ahmul_?” She looked over at Farkas, who shrugged.

  
“You have the wolf blood, _grohiik_ _vokun_ , shadow wolf…and this man is your mate. One beast cannot fool another. You have been tired, of late? Weary? Aching and losing control of your powers and yourself? Your wolf blood is fighting your dragon blood, and you, Dovahkiin, will be caught in the middle. You cannot meet Alduin while you carry the wolf blood.”

  
Lena looked at Farkas with wide, frightened eyes and squeezed his hand. “We knew it might come to this, my love. Maybe…just sooner than we thought.” She turned back to Paarthurnax. “Is there a cure? We thought there wasn’t.”

  
“There is. This is Hircine’s curse, and ridding yourselves of it involves another curse of Hircine – Hagravens. Witches. Consult your Harbinger, Companions. He has the answers you seek. They always have. I have much to teach you, Dovahkiin, but your dragon blood must be at peace. Come back alone, or with your… _ahmul_ , for _ahmul_ he still will be.”

  
Lena nodded, and they turned to start back down the mountain, when Paarthurnax cleared his throat.

  
“I am assuming,” the dragon began, “that the Blade is not aware of the wolfblood.”

  
“No,” Farkas said.

  
“I am further assuming that she and your twin are…involved?”

  
Farkas stared at Paarthurnax and nodded, slowly, as the dragon laughed that low, rumbling laugh. “You _joor_ and your passions. Your short lives make you nothing if not…fascinating.”

  
Lena slung her pack on her back and wrinkled her nose. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to leave world domination to your kind, eh?” She stepped back a few steps as steam poured from Paarthurnax’s jaws.

  
The great dragon was quiet for a moment, and then rumbled, deep in his belly. “Yes, Dovahkiin. I may not share Alduin’s desires, but…it would do you good to remember that I too…am a son of Akatosh.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations
> 
> Drem: peace  
> Dov: dragonkind  
> Dovah: dragon  
> Grohiik: wolf  
> Vokun: shadow  
> Yol Toor: fire inferno  
> Draal: pray  
> Joor: mortal  
> Pruzah: good  
> Ahmul: husband/mate  
> Unahzaal: eternal/unending  
> Krosis: sorrow


	23. I Will Stand at Her Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farkas has always been the perfect second-in-command, the perfect kid brother, going with the flow and letting others, even his mate, make decisions for him. Others are more qualified, he's always thought, so why not? But, things are changing, and Farkas is terrified that he's going to have to step up and take some of the pressure off of Lena, who is exhausted and fighting for her life. He's not scared of the work, but of being wrong and making things worse. This chapter examines his struggle to grow into being Lena's true partner, and he begins with one small step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is told from Farkas's first-person point of view. I'm getting rid of most of the other POV chapters in this story, but I like this one too much to change it.

Lena turns to me on the back porch, her smile too wide in her thin face, and asks if we can go on a picnic out by Pelagia Farm. Her head turns slowly, like I’m seeing her in a dream. Sort of hazy and fuzzy. She throws her arm out toward the mountains, blinding-white in the noonday sun. I see her mouth move, and I know what she’s saying, but somehow, I hear nothing. Can I speak? “Rare day for Morning Star,” I say, “feels like Spring.” So that's working, even though it feels like I'm underwater. I pack lunch in a basket, and we set off for the gate.

She keeps a couple of steps ahead of me, zipping around while I sort of lumber in my fog. She greets everyone; the merchants and villagers smile and wave. One of the kids reaches up to hand her a purple mountain flower. Do they see how _thin_ she’s gotten, how pale? No. But then, they don’t know her, not _really_. They don’t have the constant stream of memories running through their minds like paintings in a gallery. She's not Lena to them - she's the Dragonborn. She's not their entire world, the way she's mine. Except, that's not completely true. 

We walk in knee-high grasses outside the city, and pick flowers. She talks to me, and somehow I talk back. We chase butterflies and rabbits until Lena’s breathless, sitting down on the green blanket she spread on the ground, patting it and smiling at me to sit with her. We eat, and she weaves flowers in our hair as we talk. We agree to speak with Aela and Skjor about undoing the curse the next morning; we know what we have to do, and it’s not going to be easy. It would be better if the Circle were united, Lena says.

Again, I see her words, but it’s like the world has lost its voice. I don’t hear birds chirping or bees buzzing. I don’t hear her laughter. She rests her head in my lap and falls asleep in the sunshine. She’s slept most of the day away already. I sit for hours, thinking and watching her sleep. Twirling her hair around my fingers, careful not to dislodge the fading, shriveling blooms.

As the sun begins to sink behind the mountains, she awakens and smiles, jumping up and pulling me with her. The sudden movement hurts my legs, stiff from sitting all afternoon, but I swing her into a hug and a deep kiss before we head back to the gate. She greets the guards and they smile back. Do they _know_ she has to fight alone in her final battle? Do they know if she dies, the world dies with her? 

I fear her death so much, I almost accept it as a certainty. I’m _so_ _tired_ of this fear, this constant heartache, and the roaring of my own blood in my ears. Lena tells me I’m a rock, the strongest man she knows, but all my life I’ve deferred to someone. Vilkas was always smarter. And Lena’s…well, Lena’s dragonborn. Who am I to think I’m her equal? I thought I was strong, giving her space and trying to deny the bond between us. I thought I was showing restraint. But it had to be exhausting for her. To wonder, alone and insecure, after everything she's been through. She has the world on her shoulders, and I want to help. But I admit: I’m afraid my strength won’t be enough; I’m afraid my bad judgment might cost, has _already_ cost…everything.

Can I find the courage to be the man she thinks I am? The man she needs? Even if our time together is short?

We finally reach Jorrvaskr, and Lena and I go to the baths, to let the hot water soothe her aches and the fire feed her dragon blood. Since we have the place to ourselves, we take advantage of the warmth and privacy. I cover her with kisses as I move inside her. I feel her climax ripple through her body, and smell smoke and steam as she burns the hot stones under her hands. I come into her, shuddering and shattered, my face buried in the crook of her neck. For a moment, I wonder why my eyes are burning, and then I know. Hot tears fall into Lena’s hair, and she holds _me_ , this time. “You’re not alone,” she chants through the clamor in my head, her arms twined around my shoulders. “You are _not_ alone; I’m with you,” she says. I am not afraid, I think, as the tears fall. _I_ _will_ _not_ _be_ _afraid_.

We wrap ourselves in thick towels, and go back to our room, to bed. She climbs in and snuggles under the blanket. I sit facing her, and she looks at me, her eyes ringed with shadow, tilting her head to the side. I see her clearly. No haze, no slow motion.

“Coming to bed?” she asks, patting my pillow.

I smile my first genuine smile of the day, because I hear her voice. That beautiful voice muffled by the din of my worried mind- I finally hear it. I lean over and kiss her, softly, before pulling back and opening a chest next to the bed.

She watches as I retrieve a soft, red bag, and hand it to her. She opens it, and gasps as she sees the ornately carved amulet, its gold discs set with misty blue moonstones. Her eyes gleam with tears as I fasten the clasp around her neck and watch it settle in between her breasts.

“I meant what I said, you know. ‘ _I_ _will_ _stand_ _at_ _her_ _back_ , _that_ _the_ _world_ _might_ _never_ _overtake_ _us_.’ I mean it now. I mean it always.”

I hold her face in my hands. “I lost my strength, but I found it again, and I’ll be as strong for you as you’ve been for me. You’re my heart, Lena, and I’m yours.”

She touches the amulet with one hand, and pulls the covers back with the other, and I slide in. She moves to rest her head on my shoulder, and I hold her close. For as long as the world lasts.

 


	24. Circle is Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aela and Skjor's decision shocks the Circle. The Circle's decision angers Hircine. And Alduin is angry at the entire world. A relatively short chapter full of confrontation.

The Underforge shone bright with torchlight as the Circle met one last time together as blood-siblings. After tonight, at least two of them would take the first steps to purge themselves of Hircine’s curse, and if the Harbinger had his way, they all would. But as Kodlak liked to say, he was no one’s master, so the decision lay with each individual Companion, as it always had.

Lena, Kodlak, and Vilkas spoke in favor of a complete purge, their entire group giving up the beastblood for the benefit of the Companions as a whole. If they did, the Silver Hand might leave them alone, and they could spend their time better serving Skyrim and its people. Kodlak spoke of Sovngarde, and how they should spend their afterlives as warriors rather than hunters. Farkas agreed, for the most part, and stressed that he and Lena would be breaking the curse, no matter what the rest of the group decided. They had no idea the effect of a partial purge, but Lena had no choice.

Aela and Skjor were not defensive, as Lena thought they would be; in fact, they seemed resigned, and she marveled at their seeming acceptance of the situation at hand, as the two spoke softly to each other in an alcove near the back entrance to the Underforge.

The group tensed noticeably as Aela and Skjor walked back, hand in hand. “We’re leaving,” Aela said, her face stony.

“But the meeting’s not over,” Vilkas said. “Nothing’s been decided yet.”

“I don’t mean we’re leaving the Underforge, Vil,” she said, as a single tear fell from her left eye and rolled down her cheek. Vilkas rocked back a step, and Kodlak clasped his forearm with a steadying hand.

“You’re _leaving_. You’re leaving _us_ ,” Lena said, finally understanding. “Why?”

“Because you’re right,” Skjor said, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s best for the Companions that the curse be undone. Since its inception, our numbers and fame have dwindled. We’re little more than a band of mercenaries having to devote too much time to the destruction of an unstoppable enemy. The Silver Hand will never give up, and as long as there are werewolves, there will be…victims who demand retribution. You’re right; they shouldn’t demand it from Skyrim’s heroes. And...we may be able to help in our own way. We can control our wolves; we may be able to help others control theirs.”

“But we can’t give it up,” Aela said, wiping tears from her face. “It’s part of who we are-“

“It’s part of us, _all_ , but if we do what Kodlak said and kill the wolf spirit…” Vilkas trailed off, pacing between Aela and Skjor.

“No, it’s…different,” she turned to Lena. “Remember when we were talking, and you described seeing Farkas as you mated? The wolf illusion surrounding the man, and he saw you the same way?” She moved her gaze to Farkas. “Skjor and I…we see the _wolf only_. No illusion.” Farkas and Lena looked at each other, and then nodded at Aela, who sighed tearfully, relieved that they understood.

“So we’ll leave for the good of the Companions, and we have no regrets,” Skjor said. “We’ve been making arrangements for awhile, ever since the attack on Jorrvaskr. If we stayed, the attacks would only continue.”

“The wolves at the Huntsman on Yuletide,” Lena blurted out. “You’re joining them? The ones in the Reach?”

Aela nodded. “That’s right,” she said, kneeling where Lena sat. “We still want to help with Alduin, so call us when you need us and we’ll be there. We understand why you’re doing this.” She stood up and looked at them all. “We understand why you _all_ want this, but we can’t…we can’t…” she said, as her tears fell steadily.

Skjor steadied Aela with a hand at the small of her back and nodded. “You are our family,” he looked into the eyes of everyone gathered around him. “Every one of you. This was the hardest decision we’ve ever had to make, but Aela and I are too entwined with our wolves. Killing them would be…killing ourselves, we’re sure of it.”

Kodlak nodded, tears pooling in his eyes. “We would never ask it of you. And if you feel you must leave, well…you must follow your own conscience,” he took one of their hands in each of his own. “But you will always have a home here, whether or not you are of the Companions. You _are_ family.”

“When will you…” Farkas began, and cleared his throat. “How long will you stay?”

Aela smiled and wiped her tears away, looking around at her friends. “We’ll leave before you start the ritual. Our loyalty is to our wolf spirits, but…Hircine would make a _terrible_ enemy.”

 

* * *

 

The main chamber of Glenmoril Coven stank with the residue of hundreds of years of butchery and ritual, not to mention the five bloody heads Farkas was stuffing into an oiled leather sack. He, Vilkas, and Lena (with the aid of strong stamina potions) had made short work of the hagravens, and they were anxious to get back to Jorrvaskr and pick up Kodlak for the long journey to Ysgramor’s Tomb.

"Ready?” Vilkas asked Lena as he helped her up from where she rested. “If we hurry, we can be back by dark.”

She nodded and gratefully accepted his support as they limped toward the mouth of the cave. “Does this cave entrance seem longer than it was when we came in?” she asked as the darkness went on and on. “That _can’t_ be right,” she said, as the roof of the cave gave way to a starry sky. She looked around with narrowed eyes. “It was morning when we-“

Lena’s words stuck in her throat. A huge Forsworn briarheart and a complement of Forsworn hunters came striding up the hill, bearing bows and spears and accompanied by wild dogs. She drew her bow, nocking an arrow, and then froze as she noticed the strange shimmer, almost a phosphorescence, surrounding the horde. “That’s…that’s not a briarheart, is it? Those aren't...”

Farkas dropped the sack and pulled his sword. “No, I don’t know what it is.”

The creature was supernaturally tall, with the body of a lean-muscled man and the head of a stag, or at least the skull of a stag, and long antlers. It wore a tan hide wrap around its waist, and calf-length boots of hide, coated in blood. It carried a spear half again its own height, and the stag’s eyes glowed a deep, eerie blue. “Dragonborn,” it said, in a baritone human voice, oddly devoid of malice. “You were a worthy addition to my Hunt. Why this? Why now?”

Lena slumped a little, but managed to stay standing as she realized who confronted them. “Hircine. If you know who I am, you know why I do this. Don’t stand in my way.”

The daedric lord laughed, his spear shaking, and he motioned for his cadre to move closer to the cave mouth. “We had a deal, Dragonborn, one that included no escape clause. That goes for your friends as well.”

“Your witches betrayed our ancestors, Hircine, and we’re following the ritual to undo the curse,” Vilkas shouted. “If we can pay the price, why interfere?”

“Why would I ever let you go? Five hundred years of hunters such as yourselves…well,” he chuckled, “I’ve gotten used to having you around. And now…” He aimed his spear at the sack containing the witch heads, and it vanished.

Vilkas yelled and pulled his sword. Lena readied Fire Breath and, as a last resort, Storm Call, although she had no idea whether such things would be damaging to a daedric lord. Farkas crept forward, preparing to strike, when Lena heard a familiar swooping and hissing coming from behind the cave, over the mountain. She closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the sky began to lighten as a huge, black dragon landed on top of the cave behind them.

“Son of Akatosh,” Hircine called, “this is not your business, begone!” He waved his spear and his hunters yelled and whooped war cries.

Alduin chuckled and swung his tail. “Dovahkiin is mine, daedra. Release your hold on her, for my claim is first. Has always been first. _Daal Ah Zii!”_

Hircine flinched as Alduin’s power washed over him. “No. She and the Companions are mine; the bargain was struck!”

“Pathetic daedra, _dukaan_. What sort of prince are you who needs deceit to coerce the worship of…lesser races? But you will let her go. I demand it. Our battle is foretold, and the Lord of Time is sovereign on this plane. Your power will not stand against mine,” the dragon hissed, as his swinging tail dislodged boulders from the cave, hurling them at the Wild Hunt. Several members of the Hunt turned and fled. “You still stand a chance of her companions losing their fight against their wolves; in that you must be content.”

Hircine stood fast and shook his spear at Alduin. “If what you say is true, your time is also drawing to a close. The plains of Oblivion will stand long after you’re gone.”

Alduin looked at Hircine and smiled. “Then you should be satisfied, huntsman. _Evenaar_!” With that, Alduin released a gout of silver fire, washing over the Wild Hunt and its prince like a wave, and when it dissipated, the darkness had retreated.

Lena took a ragged breath and turned to face the dragon, squinting in the afternoon sun and reeling in the knowledge that one who was prophesied to kill her had become her savior twice over.

“Dovahkiin, remedy your mistake and rest well. For when we next meet, that fire is all you will see. The last thing you, or the rest of the world will see,” he roared as he spread his wings. “ _Lein do krosis fen oblaan!_ ”

Lena stared at the space where Alduin had been, and then jumped at the sound of Farkas’s startled yell. “What? What is it now?”

“The sack with the…heads. It’s here. I thought…” he shook his head and pushed his hair off his face. “You know, love, going back to hunting bears and bandits doesn’t sound too bad right now.”

Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes as she sat on a mossy rock and took a drink from her waterskin. “Vilkas, if you’ll grab a couple of stamina potions out of that bag,” she motioned to her leather backpack, “we can move before anything else decides to pay us a visit.”

“I’m sure there will be bandits and bears aplenty on the way to Winterhold, brother. You’ll get your wish soon enough,” Vilkas said, handing Lena the little green bottles and reaching out to take the witch heads from Farkas.

Taking her mate’s hand as they started down the hill, Lena turned to his twin. “Do you really want to get rid of your wolf, or are you just going along with us, and Kodlak?”

He thought for a moment, and looked over his shoulder at the place where Hircine had stood. “It’s complicated, as you know. I like how I feel when I’m the wolf, but I don’t like how it’s sort of…an addiction. Like I’m never whole unless I’m under its power. And I don’t think I’ll ever want to take the beast form permanently. So, yeah, I’m ready for it to be gone. If nothing else, I’m looking forward to a truly good night’s sleep.”

“Are you going to tell Delphine?”

“Should I? If you were in her shoes, would you want to know, even…after?”

“Would I want to know that I’d been intimate with a werewolf? It wouldn’t bother me,” she tilted her head and squeezed Farkas’s hand. “But, I think it would Delphine, so maybe you shouldn’t say anything. On the other hand, would it be worse if she found out from someone else? And how would _you_ feel, knowing how _she_ felt; would it make _you_ feel guilty? But then again…” Lena’s voice trailed off as she realized they were both staring at her. “You did ask, you know.”

Vilkas huffed and slung the sack over his shoulder. He hadn’t imagined any scenario other than the obvious one, but leave it to Lena to make the situation even more complicated. “You sure you want her to keep that amulet, brother?” Vilkas said, smiling back at the couple. “You could have had a simple life.”

Farkas wrapped his arm around her and kissed her cheek as she blew a raspberry at his twin. “And give up all this? Sacks full of witch heads…creepy deer-faced daedra…crazy, murderous dragons…not for all the silver in the Reach.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Daal Ah Zii - Return Hunter Spirit
> 
> Dukaan - dishonor
> 
> Evenaar - extinguish
> 
> Lein do krosis fen oblaan- The world of sorrow will end.


	25. Bound in Love, Free in Spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena recounts the events in Ysgramor's Tomb, and the Companions take advantage of a relative lull to make a trip to Riften.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is told in Lena's first-person point of view.

When we were kids, Farkas and Vilkas laughed at my inability to sleep comfortably anywhere but in my own bed. I remember one camping trip, I'd shimmied out of my bedroll and wiggled close to the embers of the banked fire, and woke up with a charcoal mustache. Those little shits. As I’m lying here in a strange room with Farkas sleeping like a brick next to me, I see little has changed. When it’s time for the final battle with Alduin, I’m not sure how I’ll handle sleeping, because it’ll be far away from Whiterun if I have anything to do with it.

I should be sleeping. I need the rest. We’re all currently recuperating from the shock of severing our wolf spirits, which was more grueling a task than I'd anticipated. I'd expected something like ‘witch head in flames, kill wolf,” but it was more like ripping part of my soul away and stabbing myself through the heart. Aela and Skjor were right – they never would’ve survived it.

We emerged from Ysgramor’s Tomb relatively unscathed. Vilkas broke his arm when his wolf slammed him against the pedestal containing the Flame of the Harbinger, but that healed with a potion and a spell. Kodlak is stronger than ever. Without the beastblood burning through his veins, Danica and Arcadia were finally able to help his body heal the rot that had been plagueing him for years. The twins helped with his fight, but now he’s running around Jorrvaskr like a man half his age, even helping some of the new whelps with training, which has been wonderful for his spirit as well as his body.

Of course, my healing is taking the longest. The mystical conflict between dragon and wolf left me battered and weak. While the twins and even Kodlak felt energized and sharp after their battles, I’d barely slain my wolf before passing out cold. For the last week, I’ve spent most days and evenings in the baths, soaking in the fiery water, and it’s helping. But being unproductive, while wonderful for healing the body, is torture for my unquiet mind. I just want to get back to Alduin. End it, one way or the other.

As for Farkas and me, we were both afraid of severing our bond when we broke the curse, but what choice did we have? When we reached the burial chamber, I threw the first witch head in the flames, and when my wolf spirit clawed its way out of my body, attempting to take my own soul with it, I meant to throw every Shout I had at it. I meant to, but I looked at Farkas and hesitated. Farkas didn’t. He yelled and jumped in front of me, advancing on the spectral wolf, who yelped and pulled back its claws, landing only a glancing blow on Farkas’s cheek. It dithered and whined, watching him with flattened ears and a tucked tail.

Vilkas and Kodlak stared, speechless at the wolf's submission. I regained my confidence and killed the beast. It didn’t go down easy, and I think I’ll always feel…like some small part of me is missing. But our bond - our love - isn’t gone. If anything, it’s stronger than ever. Paarthurnax said as much, but I thought he was just trying to be reassuring. After all, how would he know?

So why am I not in my own bed? Well, a day after returning from Winterhold, a contract came in from Elgrim, the alchemist in Riften. The adventurer he usually hired to gather potion ingredients accepted a contract in Solstheim and wouldn’t be available again until next Sun’s Dusk. Ordinarily, it would be a job for a couple of newbloods, but since we were still healing, it was a good opportunity to stay active without too much exertion. Plus, it was in Riften, and Farkas and I could marry.

And we did it right. Everyone from Jorrvaskr came, including Tilma, and Kodlak actually locked the doors for once. Delphine made the journey from Riverwood, and seemed to fit right in. My husband… _my husband_ was gorgeous in a black tunic Tilma had trimmed in copper ribbon, and he wore my wedding gift – a copper and jade amulet enchanted with the most powerful shield spell Farengar and I could devise.

Kodlak walked me down the aisle dressed in gifts from both my oldest friends. My husband’s own gift to me was a circlet – copper with an intricate swirl of amethysts and emeralds, which matched my gown, a gift from them both. Really, from _everyone_ , since everyone had a hand in either making it or keeping it secret.

With everything so crazy, I hadn’t been concerned with what I’d wear to my own wedding, but the twins had conspired with Tilma and Fralia Gray-Mane, Eorlund’s wife, to make me a gown. So impractical, yet so beautiful. Styled around traditional fancy dress in Hammerfell – sleeveless and torso-baring – it was fashioned from an exotic copper silk trimmed with a wide emerald silk ribbon at the hem. Eorlund had even designed a belt out of the smaller dragon scales we’d saved, low-slung around my hips, and the halter neckline was a necklace of dragon scales as well, burnished to a shiny, deep bronze. Copper and emerald ribbons hung down my back, trimmed with tiny bells that jangled when we danced.

And oh, how we danced. Even Kodlak joined in, through the streets of Riften and back to Haelga’s Bunkhouse, where Njada, Ria, and Athis had decorated a large room for our party. Yes, we know what goes on at Haelga’s, but that’s still preferable to dealing with Maven Black-Briar at the Bee and Barb. It is Riften, of course, there’s no really nice place. But we were together, and it was beautiful. We missed Aela and Skjor, and Vignar, of course. But…I think everyone needed a bit of a break before we really got down to business with Alduin.

Late that night, after everyone else took the wagon back to Whiterun and Farkas and I went to bed, we talked about what to do next. Surprisingly, Farkas wants to move into our own house, and I mentioned Breezehome in Whiterun. He smiled at that, and I think we might do it. We have more than enough money saved up, and it would be close enough to Jorrvaskr to remain part of the group. It does sound like a wonderful dream, and after we speak with Paarthurnax next week, it might just seem attainable.

For now, though…Farkas is waking up and I can feel his hands moving over my back, curving around my waist. He’s kissing my neck and his beard tickles. He laughs as I turn over and tickle him back. And for now, that’s enough.


	26. One and Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vilkas and Lena return from a meeting with the Blades, and there are plans to worry over. Lena discovers a quirky connection with Paarthurnax, and Vilkas has a rare, introspective moment.

Vilkas looked sideways at Lena and frowned, as they walked down the path from Riverwood to Whiterun. Since they’d purged themselves of the beastblood, her stamina and health had steadily improved until she was Lena again, but for the last few minutes, he’d worried more about her _mental_ state. She was twitching, holding her hands to her ears. He flinched as she yelled, "huh?"

"Excuse me?" Vilkas said. But she'd not addressed him. Then... _who_? Not normal, Vilkas thought, opening his mouth to ask her what was wrong, just as Lena gasped and let out a little shriek.

He jumped into a crouch as she stopped short, and looked around to see what startled her. Seeing nothing but a rabbit running into the undergrowth, he turned to Lena. Her wide eyes stared into nothing, he noticed, as he waved his hand in front of her face, getting no reaction. Slowly, her mouth dropped slightly open and curved across her face in an awestruck smile, a tear falling from one eye. Vilkas sighed and waited, leaning back against a tree trunk and picking at his nails with the dagger he fidgeted with when he walked. Nothing in Oblivion could surprise him anymore.

After a few minutes, she rocked slightly backward, her green eyes focused on him once more, and she laughed. After a couple of deep breaths, she swallowed hard. “I just had a conversation with a dragon,” she said, huffing. “In my _head_.”

“Well, you’re smiling, so it must not have been Alduin. Paarthurnax, then?” Vilkas smirked, starting back down the hill.

“Wait, you’re not freaked out by this?” Lena asked, skipping over the rocky path to catch up with him.

He looked sideways at her, raising one eyebrow. “You really think I should be affected in the slightest by anything that happens from here on out? Hmmm?”

Lena pursed her lips and grinned. “You have a point. Yes, it was Paarthurnax. Apparently, when we 'greeted' each other back on the mountain, we forged a connection, some sort of dragon thing, and now that my blood's clean, we can speak through our thoughts. I thought there was something wrong at first, like a bee buzzing in my ear.”

“Yeah, that’s what it looked like to me, too. I thought you were hearing things.”

“Mmmm…yeah. Hearing voices at this stage in the game would be worrisome,” she said, swinging her arms and enjoying the late-winter breeze on her skin, and the smell of evergreens mixed with the musty honey scent from the meadery below. “He wants me to come tomorrow. To talk about defeating Alduin. He made it sound urgent…I mean of course, it’s urgent,” she clarified, as Vilkas made an exaggerated gesture toward the ruined watchtower in the distance. “But _newly_ urgent. Like, something’s happened."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the freedom of the afternoon. Armor hadn't been necessary for their meeting, and they didn't have to rush back to Whiterun now that the sun was setting later in the day. It almost felt like a day off. Vilkas smiled, and then nudged Lena with his elbow. "Hey, just a thought...getting to the Throat of the World is a pretty arduous journey, right? I mean, it's not like you have to go to Winterhold, but...seven thousand steps? Frost trolls? Talking to Klimmek? If you can speak with Paarthurnax in your head, why does he need to see you in person?"

"Huh," Lena grunted. "I didn't think of that. I wonder why..." She laughed softly and slipped her hands in the pocket of her blue and gray tunic. "Klimmek does love to complain about things, though. Maybe we'll get there too late and he'll already be inside. But yeah, that's something I'll ask himself when we get up there tomorrow. If we can talk like this," she tapped her forehead with her fingers, "it should save us a lot of time. And energy. Anyway, hopefully Farkas is back from the new whelp’s trial so we can get ready.”

“Njada’s friend…what’s her name again?”

“Giulia, Imperial from Solitude. It’s funny meeting people Njada grew up with. People who actually _like_ her. I got so used to grouchy, surly Njada that it’s hard to think of a Njada who has friends.” Lena thought for a minute and nodded. “Who _wants_ friends.”

“Yeah,” Vilkas laughed. “She’s impressed me, taking everything in stride, bringing in new blood. Ria’s a little more upset though, about Aela and Skjor, especially. I didn’t expect that. They didn’t seem close.”

“Ria attaches herself to things quickly and easily. It’s sweet…she came to Jorrvaskr with all these romantic notions about the Companions, and nothing’s changed,” Lena said, shaking her head with a smile. “I expect her to write a ballad about fighting dragons soon.”

They walked in silence until the gatehouse came into sight, and Vilkas took a deep breath and turned to look at her, his face hardened with worry he’d carried since their meeting with Delphine and the Blades earlier that day. “What are we going to do with the information Delphine gave us? And her…plan? Are we seriously going to bring the Imperials into this? And Ulfric?”

“Someone risked an awful lot to break into the embassy and get those dossiers, Vilkas. I know they just wanted to make sure the Thalmor weren’t somehow working with Alduin, even though Paarthurnax said it was impossible, but _still_ …this might be _exactly_ what we need to get people to pay attention. I mean, what is the point of a civil war if Alduin’s going to destroy the entire world?”

“Yeah. And…I know this isn’t the point here, but I _really_ don’t want to be there when Ulfric discovers that the Thalmor orchestrated the Stormcloak rebellion, that he’s just…a pawn.” Vilkas whistled and frowned. “Even if they weren’t involved with the dragons rising, there’s still enough information here to unite everyone against the Dominion. After dealing with Alduin first, of course. If the two sides’d just…”

“I know, it just seems so _stupid_ when you have all the information. And Ulfric _has_ to know…he _has_ to have intel on the dragons, especially given his history with the Greybeards. Gods, he probably knows Paarthurnax as well,” Lena said, grabbing a sprig of lavender growing against the city wall and rubbing the stems between her fingers. “I’m pleasantly surprised no one’s tried to recruit me. Having the dragonborn as an ally would be…quite the symbol of power.”

“You’ve done a good job keeping a low profile. Jarl Balgruuf, too. He could’ve been a real glory hound, bragging about the dragonborn living in Whiterun, joining the Companions. Most jarls would,” he said, as they walked through the gatehouse and up the hill to the city. “Aside from the Silver Hand, you haven’t had a lot of contact with people from other Holds.” Vilkas thought for a moment. “And I’m pretty sure the Imperials believe Dovahkiin is a fairy tale.”

“Well, that’s about to change, if we go along with Delphine’s scheme,” Lena said, biting her nails, the lavender shaking in her hands. “Paarthurnax first, find out how to defeat Alduin. And when we come back… _gods_ , Vilkas. I’m not cut out for politics.”

“You were trained by master politicians, Lena,” Vilkas reassured her as the gate closed behind them. “Scheming, murderous, duplicitous politicians. _Use it,_ turn their lessons against them. Don’t tell me you won’t enjoy a bit of revenge.”

“No, yeah, I will,” she said, gazing at the little house next door to the smithy. "You know, a few months ago I would have been all over this. Avenging my parents was my goal, my dream. But now...I keep thinking what _they_ would want. They wanted me to love...and _be_ loved. And I wonder if they’d be ashamed of some of the things I did while captive, or if they’d just be glad I survived."

Vilkas rolled his head around and groaned. “We’ve been _over_ this, Lena. You didn’t kill anyone. You taught Redguard kids-“

“I _indoctrinated_ them, Vilkas, same as was done to me,” Lena fumed. “I’m not innocent in all this, not by a long shot.”

“Yeah, and you can make up for that. But as I’ve told you, you probably saved those kids. They’d already been kidnapped, just like you’d been. Tell me, what if you’d kept resisting? How much longer do you think they’d have let you live? They wouldn’t treat those kids any different, and you _know_ it.”

Lena was silent for a moment, and breathed from her belly, letting Vilkas’s logic defeat her guilt and anger. “They need to be stopped. I don’t think my parents would want me to concentrate on revenge, but I know they’d expect me to do what’s right.”

Vilkas nodded and bumped her shoulder with his. “I can get behind that…don’t let your unfounded guilty conscience make you forget who you are and all the good you’ve done.”

Lena swiped at her eyes and shook her head, slowly. “It’s not just that. Farkas and I are buying Breezehome, and the idea of- ”

Vilkas stopped in his tracks, and Lena turned around, tilting her head to the side and then slumping a little at his pale, impassive face.

“…and the idea of… _domesticating_ …is suddenly attractive,” she finished, looking up at Vilkas, willing him to understand. “I thought nothing could surprise you anymore?”

The Vilkas whose father had abandoned him to a cold, cruel, death-scented cage wanted to push her away again, push Farkas away. He was going to end up alone and in pain anyway, so it might as well be on his terms, right? But somehow...that didn't feel right this time, he thought, waging his eternal battle between fear and hope. Fight and flight. His little brother was married, he himself was a dragonslayer, and soon to be a diplomat, if all went according to plan. No, he told himself, not this time.

Vilkas shoved one hand in his pocket, and slung his other arm over Lena’s shoulder, kissing the top of her head as they walked through the village. “Of course it sounds good in the face of almost certain death. And you want privacy, I get it,” he said, letting her go and jogging up the stairs. “I’m glad you want to stay here, though. I figured we’d all go our separate ways eventually…but wow, things are happening fast.”

“In the face of certain death, remember? We _have_ to move fast,” she said, shielding her eyes from the afternoon sun as she looked up at him. “You know you’ll always be welcome. And we’re not leaving, not really. Just...being married.  And hoping."

“I know. _I know_ ,” he assured her, nodding his chin up at Jorrvaskr from where they walked around the Gildergreen. “He’s back, and looks to be covered in frostbite webs. Go on…he needs you more than I do.”

Lena stood on her tiptoes and kissed her brother-in-law’s forehead. “He’ll be shaking all night. Damned spiders.” She ran up the steps and wrapped her arms around her husband, webs and all.

Spiders made his brother yelp like a child, yet he was unafraid to take on dragons. _And_ …a woman who could _talk_ to dragons using her _mind_ , he thought, laughing as Farkas jumped six inches into the air, startled by his wife’s embrace. Joining them on their walk back to the veranda, Vilkas imagined Farkas and Lena spending less and less time at Jorrvaskr, and then never coming at all. No longer Companions, just memories or...characters in one of Ria’s ballads. He wondered if he’d experience a connection like that, one that would become the center of his world. Maybe he already had, and had sundered it forever with his stupid games and defenses. He huffed and turned his thoughts to mead, melancholy banished for the evening. Plenty of time for that after they stopped the World Eater.


	27. Prophecy Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena and Farkas respond to Paarthurnax's summons, and Lena receives surprises from the Greybeards. Paarthurnax slowly begins to unravel the mystery of Alduin, and what Lena must do to prevent the world from ending.

“I dreamed Paarthurnax and Alduin were the same dragon, last night. He changed his mind about wanting to destroy the world. And there was mead involved.” Farkas yawned as he watched the red-gold sun peek over the horizon, wondering if it was the last peaceful morning they’d see for awhile. There’d been no time to talk last night. Giulia’s trial had gone off without a hitch, and their celebration at the Bannered Mare had been a little too much fun, leaving no time for conversation as they’d fallen, exhausted, into bed. “I wonder what…what he has to tell us.”

"I don't know, but I’m surprised how conflicted I feel. I _need_ to know, and _want_ to know…but on the other hand, once I _do_ know, life’ll start to get real urgent, real fast.” Lena gripped her pommel like she wanted to rip it off, twisting the reins in her hands as she rambled faster. “What if I have to fight him tomorrow? What if I have to seek him out and leave you? What if it’s a trap, and Alduin is waiting-“

“Hey…” Farkas rode close to Lena, covering her hands with one of his and gently clicking his tongue, “you’re spooking…what did the stablehand say your horse’s name was again? Something ridiculous…”

“Woofy. Yeah, very…creative. It may be my pounding head talking, but did he…did he tell us this horse _barks_?” Lena asked, breathing deeply as she tried to calm herself.

Farkas nodded. “Imagine it’s his idea of a joke, to see how many people pretend to hear a horse bark just to shut the guy up. And yeah, you’re spooking Woofy… _and_ yourself. No point in worrying until we know what’s what, although I get what you’re saying. Not going to lie...I’m pretty scared too. But Paarthurnax did say he had news, right? And last time, he promised to help.” He stroked Lena’s thigh and smiled. “Eyes on the-“

“Last time you said that, I’d just seen you turn into a werewolf, love. It wasn’t helpful then, either.” Lena playfully scowled at him and took one more deep breath. “Ok, let’s open this up, maybe run some tension off. We can ride pretty freely until we get past Helgen. Delphine said all those bandits scampered, set up camp somewhere else, so unless we meet a bear, our way should be clear.”

“Wanna race?” Farkas grinned and gently snapped his reins, whooping as his horse took off. He listened to Lena’s laughter and her whistle, as she nudged Woofy to catch up.

 

* * *

 

“Hello?” Lena walked into the front room at High Hrothgar as Farkas shut the door behind them. “Arngeir? Borri?” They warmed their hands over the braziers and waited for the Greybeards to come down. After ten minutes had passed, Lena frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe they’re in the courtyard…”

“Think they’re still mad about Delphine? They might feel a little awkward…” Farkas bumped Lena's shoulder with his own as they looked around the monastery’s public rooms for the old men.

“You might be right. I’ll give them five minutes and then we’ll head on up.” Lena turned back around and tried to smile at her husband, but it never reached her eyes. The Greybeards hadn’t told her about Alduin, and they’d been out of line with Delphine, but she felt better with them on her side. She hadn’t expected the cold shoulder.

“Come on love, let’s go on up,” Farkas slung his arm over Lena’s shoulder and led her toward the courtyard.

 

* * *

 

They rounded the last curve up to the Throat of the World, and looked over the edge, marveling at the vastness of Skyrim laid out below like an endless, snowy ocean. “You ever wonder how we get up this mountain so quickly?” Farkas scooped up a snowball and threw it over the edge, watching it fly apart as the storm rolled back in, raging around the peak. “How can we climb the highest mountain in the country in just a few hours? Seems impossible.”

Lena shrugged and leaned her head on his shoulder. “How did the ancients create the paths that wind around the mountain so perfectly? I’m guessing magic, the likes of which I’ve never seen. Maybe some of it’s still here, and hurries our steps.” She grabbed his hand, and pulled him along behind her. “Come on, I think I hear something.”

At the top of the path, Paarthurnax perched on his eyrie as usual, but not in solitude. This time, the Greybeards stood in the shelter of the word wall, speaking with him in low _Thu’ums_. Lena looked up at Farkas and squeezed his hand. He kissed her temple and whispered, “I love you, you’ve got this, babe.”

" _Drem_ , Dovahkiin,” Paarthurnax rumbled. The Greybeards turned as one, hands tucked into their sleeves, and bowed their heads, their _Thu’ums_ of greeting vibrating the mountain. “My students tell me they have amends to make. Listen to what they have to teach you, and then we will speak.”

Reluctantly letting go of Farkas's hand, Lena took a few tentative steps forward, her heart pounding, and Arngeir strode to meet her, his eyes tired and a little sad. Taking her hands in his, he lowered his forehead to hers, and spoke, a low, rumbling whisper. “ _Laas_!”

She closed her eyes, and felt his power stream into her body like a gentle spring rain. She listened, and could hear…heartbeats. In the darkness behind her eyes, she saw the life forces of Farkas, the Greybeards, Paarthurnax…the mountain itself. _What was this place_ , she thought, as she opened her eyes wide, sensing life teeming throughout the mountain, surrounding them all. She looked at Arngeir in wonder.

“Never forget, Dovahkiin, life is a _gift_. _Life_ is power,” he said, his tone almost a plea…or a prayer.

Lena nodded, unable to take her eyes away from her new appreciation of the mountain. All that power, so much glory and…mystery. She shook her head a tiny bit as Borri took her hands and thundered a different word. “ _Shul_!”

She rocked back and sighed as the third word of the Fire Breath Shout flooded her body with liquid flame. Arngeir spoke softly amid the tumult. “Life is powerful, yet not all beings are in control of their power. Sadly, you may have need of defense. Take this with our blessing.”

“Thank you,” Lena whispered, barely able to speak, as Einarth took Borri’s place.

He took her hands and almost hummed, “ _Tiid_.”

She stared into his eyes as a strange silence replaced the normal buzzing of her thoughts. Her heartbeat slowed. Even the wind seemed to hush as the new power settled in her body. She reached out to touch a snowflake, and it melted on her finger, the water droplets floating in midair. She laughed.

Arngeir smiled. “Time is one thing no magic can create more of, yet it’s what people wish for most. You have the ability to slow time for a short while, giving you space to clear your mind. This is a great power.” He opened his mouth as though he wanted to say more, but Paarthurnax growled behind them. Arngeir closed his mouth and cleared his throat.

Lena whispered her thanks as Wulfgar approached her, his eyes cast down, but wide open. What sort of Shout could make him this apprehensive, she wondered, feeling a shiver move up her spine. “Wulfgar? Are you…are you alright?”

He hesitated, turning to Paarthurnax for guidance. His master nodded slowly, and Wulfgar finally took Lena’s trembling hands, and spoke. “ _Gol_.”

She felt strange, as though her body were not her own, as the power seemed to snake through her limbs, encircling her wrists like the shackles she’d worn at Helgen. She shook her arms, and her panicked gasp brought Farkas to her side.

Arngeir nodded, his eyes piercing her own. “Remember how you feel _at this moment_ , Dovahkiin, and use this power only in times of greatest need. It is an immense undertaking to steal someone’s freedom, to bend a soul’s will to yours, but our master assured us that _you_ understand this like few others. Perhaps given your history…he is right.”

Lena’s shaking subsided, and she closed her eyes as they burned with unshed tears. “Thank you for these gifts… _fadonne, inne._ I hope…I hope I’ll prove worthy of them, and of your trust. I was…I mean, I still _am_ dreading this fight, but less so with you on my side.”

Arngeir’s eyes crinkled as he smiled. “ _Hind unslaad_. We want the best for you, Dovahkiin, and for this world. May the steps we take put us on that path.” The four Greybeards bowed, and started down the mountain.

Lena and Farkas watched them go, standing close together, then turned as Paarthurnax cleared his throat. “Did you wonder, Dovahkiin, why you needed to speak to me here, now that we can use the mind voice?”

Lena grinned. The old dragon wasted no time. “I did wonder, but I wasn’t going to be so rude as to ask. I enjoy talking to you, Paarthurnax.”

“Ah, diplomacy,” he laughed, low and rumbling. “That is a skill you will need soon, Dovahkiin.” He pointed a curled claw in her direction. “Yet…what is said today must be said _here_ , in this sacred site. _Monahven_. And face to face. It must be so.” Paarthurnax noticed Lena’s confused expression and nodded. “And now that your blood is clean, you will have the strength to hear it, and to do what must be done.”

“Oh, that’s right! I-I wanted to know,” she stammered, biting her lip, “how did you know Farkas and I would still be…together…without the mating bond? We were a little afraid that, without it-”

More rumbling laughter. “I am sorry, Dovahkiin, I forget you do not think as the _dov_ do. Ironic, given my task here today.” That last bit was mumbled under his breath, and Lena narrowed her eyes, but let him continue. “Beasts, men, mer, even immortals, we all desire...companionship. Beasts mate instinctively. They know their mates, and bond without conscious thought, unlike higher beings,” he said, chuckling. “For you, the bond remains, but sometimes reason, insecurity, logic…well, it is obscured. _Vodahmin_.” He smiled at the couple’s skeptical expressions. “See, even now, you utilize reason rather than instinct, and generally speaking, that is good. But in matters of love…the mind gets in the way of the heart, so to speak. The old ones understand these things...sometimes all too well.”

“Do dragons behave more like beasts, or…or-“ Farkas asked, his face reddening as he wondered if Paarthurnax would find the question rude. He rubbed the back of his neck, waiting for an answer. Lena grinned at him, making his color rise even more.

“Hmm…Dragons are immortal souls in the bodies of beasts.” He rested his head on his claws and snorted smoke from his nostrils. “Like beasts, we are captive to the urges of instinct. Dominance, mating, imprinting… _Yet_ , our minds understand many mysteries of the universe, and sometimes that knowledge can be too much, even for us. _Kein do zii_. _This_ is why I am on this mountain, why I have waited for Alduin all this time. Why I look so…ancient...while my brother has not aged a day over thousands of years.”

Lena stepped closer to the wall, feeling a pit open up in her stomach. “And…why is that?”

Paarthurnax stared over Lena’s shoulder at a point near the edge of the mountain. After a long pause, he sighed. “I was pleased, when last we met, that you had not been influenced by prophecy, or that elusive thief, destiny... _dez_. Unlike my brother. But to understand his twisted mind, you must first understand the Prophecy of the Dragonborn.” He shifted his gaze to Lena. “Alduin came to you when Hircine thought to thwart his plans. It is good he did not share the prophecy, as I feared he would.”

“Prophecy of the Dragonborn? I can’t believe Farengar didn’t know…Delphine was right, he _really_ does need to get out more.” Lena shook her head and exhaled heavily. “If this prophecy is responsible for driving Alduin crazy, why should you tell me?”

“Your ultimate task is complicated, Dovahkiin. And like most prophecies, this one is…most cryptic. Even to the _dov_. And, to answer your question…all knowledge is worth having. What you do with it marks the difference between you and Alduin.”

“How do you understand it? Are you sure you _do_ …understand it? If it’s that cryptic, I mean.” Lena grimaced, hoping she hadn’t insulted him.

“I have had assistance of an...unusual, yet _authoritative_ nature, and for now, we must leave it at that. Are you ready to listen?” He waited a minute for Lena’s tentative nod, and continued.

 _“When misrule takes its place at the eight corners of the world_  
When the Brass Tower walks and Time is reshaped  
When the thrice-blessed fail and the Red Tower _trembles_  
_When the Dragonborn Ruler loses his throne, and the White Tower falls_  
_When the Snow Tower lies sundered, kingless, bleeding_  
_The World-Eater wakes, and the Wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.”_

The ancient dragon fell quiet for a moment, and then scrabbled at the stone of his eyrie. Farkas and Lena flinched at the sudden movement, and shielded their eyes against the sun as they watched the golden dragon lift his wings and fly down to land behind them.

He groaned and stretched as they all watched each other. “Well…what do you make of _that_ , Dovahkiin?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drem - peace  
> Laas- life (first word of Aura Whisper)  
> Shul- sun (third word of Fire Breath)  
> Tiid- time (first word of Slow Time)  
> Gol - earth (first word of Bend Will. For this story, this Shout follows normal Shout rules)  
> Fadonne- friends  
> Inne- masters (teachers)  
> Hind unslaad- hope eternal  
> Monahven- Throat of the World  
> Vodahmin- forgotten  
> Kein do zii- war of spirit  
> Dez- fate


	28. Doubts and Reassurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farkas and Lena learn a thing or two about interpreting prophecy, while Vilkas rallies the Companions as they wait for news.

“Ow! No, wait…” Vilkas held his head in both hands, groaning as he lay on his back outside Jorrvaskr. He still wasn’t quick enough to execute Lena’s combat roll, and ended up whacking his head with his sword. Ria and Giulia yelled and rushed him, taking advantage of the failed maneuver to pin him to the ground. “Ok, I give...I _give_!”

" _Yes_!" Giulia exclaimed, her dark curls bouncing as she slapped Ria’s hand and danced around Vilkas’s supine form. “Not even in the Companions a week and I’ve defeated the mighty Vilkas! Want a hand up?”

He grinned and folded his arms behind his head, looking up at the two women with pride. They were both coming along, and had the potential to make fine warriors, he thought. “I’m comfortable where I am, thanks. Remember, I was trying out new moves of my _own_ during our match. Don’t get cocky, whelps,” he said, still seeing stars as he stared up at the cloudless sky.

“How long do you think they’ll be gone?” A sharp voice pulled his attention to the veranda as Njada skipped down the stairs, her green eyes flashing beneath her cropped black hair. Ria and Giulia walked over to join her. “Beating on practice dummies while we’re worried about fighting dragons is…well, it just feels like such a waste of _time_ ,” she said, picking up a dagger from the rack.

Vilkas watched Njada throw the dagger, hitting a dummy square in the chest. Lena’s fiercest critic had turned into a staunch ally, and if it weren’t for Vignar’s death and the loss of Aela and Skjor, he would swear Torvar had inadvertently done them a favor. Well, the murderous little shit had gotten his comeuppance, and the Companions were closer than ever, thanks to a common enemy and a common goal. “Unfortunately, I don’t share a mind link with Lena or my brother, so we’ll just have to wait and see. Last time we went up the mountain, it took two days, so I’m guessing we’ll see them day after tomorrow.”

She shrugged and stamped her foot, and he softened at the almost child-like expression of all the emotions swirling in his own chest. “I know,” he said, hitting the ground with his fist, “I’m worried, too. Not knowing what we’re up against is… _draining_. And...”

He looked over at the group of women and thrust his right arm up. “Someone made mention of a hand up a little while ago…that offer still open? I want to see the three of you go two-on-one, and I want a drink while I watch.”

Ria walked over and grabbed his arm, pulling him up as he winced and rubbed his back with his other hand. _Blast_ , he thought. Maybe he should stick to hacking and slashing with his sword and leave the acrobatics to Lena. He slapped his shield-sister on the back and turned to face them, clearing his throat. “Look, we may _feel_ helpless, but we’re not. We’re warriors, and we’re strong. Lena’s one of us, and she was given her gifts for a reason, so our _job_ …is to get even stronger, and be ready to fight when the time comes. It’s what _we_ have the power to do, so…let’s do it,” he said, as the three trainees nodded slowly, their backs a little straighter, eyes a little more focused than before.

He walked up the stairs to the tables, grabbed a jug of mead and refilled his tankard. Taking a long drink, he turned back to the training grounds just as the fight began. Those were big words, he thought. Inside, he was frightened as a whelp, and wondered if any of them would survive what was to come. Lena was powerful, but…was it _enough_? He remembered their first day together – he’d sat at this very table, he and Farkas, trying to sketch the distant mountains. His brother had drawn a giant dancing on the peak, so Vilkas was laughing when he’d noticed her – big green eyes and an even bigger smile. He’d nudged Farkas, who’d returned her grin, and run over to gently pull her curls, watching them spring back as the tiny girl laughed… 

He sighed and pulled himself back to the present. “Remember, when you’re fighting against two, and you _will_ , eventually, you have to make sure you stay centered. You can’t panic and hope to defeat two foes,” he said, wincing as Giulia took a hard hit to the helmet as she tried to duck Njada’s strike and sidestep Ria’s jab.

“That’s good advice - maybe _you_ should have taken it.” Vilkas smiled at the voice that sounded from the side of the veranda closest to the underforge, and looked over his shoulder. Delphine, looking particularly fetching in her barmaid’s dress. Only _he_ knew she kept a viciously sharp dagger strapped to the inside of her bodice. Only _he_ knew what her strong body was capable of underneath that…seductive costume.

“How long have you been here?” he asked as she walked over, then winced as her grin told him she’d seen him get trounced by the whelps. “Come on, have a drink with me. Later, we can – wait, you’re _here_ , in Whiterun. Not that I’m not glad to see you, but what are you doing here?”

"I needed supplies, and had to talk to Adrianne about delivering some weapons to the inn, discreetly, you know,” she said, pouring a glass of wine. “I thought about sending Ongar, but…why pass up a chance to spend some time in the hall of such mighty warriors?” She grinned and walked her fingers up his arm to rest on his bicep. “And you, of course.”

Vilkas bumped her shoulder with his own and pushed his chestnut hair out of his eyes. Maybe he should grow it out like Farkas so he could pull it back from his face. Or cut it off altogether. “Cute. Can you spend the night in the mighty…hall or do you have to get back?”

"I did bring a toothbrush, so…”

“Best news I’ve had all day,” Vilkas said, clapping as Giulia managed to disarm Njada while avoiding a hit from Ria. He smiled and glanced at Delphine out of the corner of his eye, and felt his spirits rise as he filled her in about Farkas and Lena and their trip back up the mountain.

 

* * *

  
Farkas and Lena stared at each other for a moment, their mouths hanging open a little. Paarthurnax narrowed his eyes, having long awaited their reaction to the Prophecy of the Dragonborn. What would it be? Tears? Screams of anger? Noble acceptance? When it finally came, the somber dragon backed up a step, surprised smoke curling from his nostrils. Apparently, hysterical laughter was not what he’d expected.

“Paarthurnax,” Lena wheezed, holding her side as she regained control of herself, “if you wanted someone who might have a chance in Oblivion at interpreting that prophecy, you should have asked Vilkas to come back. He at _least_ would have the arrogance to try.” Lena took Farkas’s hand. “I get the part about the Oblivion crisis and the Great War. Everyone knows that, but…” she huffed and started pacing as she mulled it over, dragging Farkas along with her. “No, wait, now that I think on it, I remember some of this. The eight corners thing, no idea, but…the brass tower, that was Numidium, right? Um, the Red Tower… has to be the eruption of Red Mountain. Vilkas and I read all those stories when we were kids. But…”

Farkas whistled, snapping his fingers. “The civil war, right? _Our_ civil war. That’s the last part. Next to last, I mean. Skyrim. We _are_ kingless, and bleeding all over the…bloody province. Ulfric and the Empire saw to that.”

“The damned Aldmeri Dominion saw to that,” Lena said, teeth clenched. “Is that right? Is the civil war why Alduin’s back? And what’s the Snow Tower?”

" _Pruzah_...there may be hope for you yet. The Snow Tower is here,” Paarthurnax gestured with his wings around the snowy peak. “Skyrim, _Keizal_. _Monahven_ is a sacred place – you felt it as Arngeir taught you how to experience the very _essence_ of life. According to legend, this spot is where-“

Farkas jumped in again. “I remember this one. Kyne- Kynareth, I guess, now, breathed on the Throat of the World, and…created, um…humans…” he faltered under Paarthurnax and Lena’s regard. “ _What_? You _both_ know I read. Why do you still look surprised?”

Lena kissed his cheek and laughed. “Not that you read, love. Just that you’re _talking_ about the stuff you’ve read. Remember the night I came back? ‘I’m not a great talker,’ you said. So, I’m still a little surprised when you find your voice. That’s all.”

“You are not the only one with hidden depths, Dovahkiin,” Paarthurnax chuckled. “The events laid out in the prophecy are not conditions of Alduin’s return, merely signs. Harbingers. The last line provides the challenge, one to which my brother has failed to rise. ‘ _The World-Eater wakes, and the wheel turns upon the Last Dragonborn.’_ I ask again, what do you make of this?”

Lena sighed and slumped down to sit on a nearby rock. “I’m no prophet or exceptional scholar, but it sounds like either Alduin dies…or I do. I’m the last dragonborn either way, right? If the world ends, or if I end up saving it,” she paused and rested her chin in her hand, “no need for another one.”

“Yes...but _no_. You _are_ the last dragonborn, that much is true, _vahzah_. Nevertheless…the prophecy mentions nothing about death. Not Alduin’s, and _not yours,_ ” Paarthurnax touched Lena’s shoulder with a gentle claw.

“But…”

“Your final meeting with Alduin…in your mind, what else could it be but a physical fight, a battle? _He_ believes you must fight to the death; it is no surprise this is your interpretation as well. But…this prophecy was divined neither by mortals…nor by the _dov_.”

“What…do you mean the gods? The Nine? Or Eight, um…depending…”

“In time, I will address that question, as well as this foolishness surrounding the God of Man.” Farkas and Lena looked each other in shock for a moment, but Paarthurnax’s views on Talos had to wait. “For now, remember what Arngeir said to you this afternoon – ‘life is power,’ remember? _Life_.” The golden dragon hobbled over to a man-sized boulder, and turned back to Lena. “Do you know, Dovahkiin, why you have been gifted with the _Thu’um_?”

“I thought…so I could defeat Alduin…in _battle_. Stop him from ending the world.” Lena shifted, starting to feel unsettled. Though she’d never wanted her powers, what needed to be done was clear, and she’d spent the last six months coming to terms with her fate. Was she supposed to look the other way as the World Eater destroyed her home, her family… _everything_ she loved? Lena frowned – she thought Paarthurnax was on her side.

Farkas moved to stand behind Lena, resting his hands on her shoulders. “Lena’s been building her strength, and her Shouts are powerful. I believe she can do it, given time.”

Paarthurnax snorted. “ _Look_ at yourself, Dovahkiin. Look at your _mate_ , even. And then…look at _me_ , my withered body and torn wings. And finally…think of Alduin. The shadow he casts, the devastation wrought by his hand at Helgen…his laughter as he flew away after resurrecting Sahloknir.” He narrowed his eyes. “Tell me, how many of my brethren have you slain since you embraced your blood?”

Lena thought, wincing at Paarthurnax’s phrasing. “Seven.”

“How many did you kill by yourself?”

“One, and that one only because I kept ducking into a cave to heal and replenish my magicka,” she said, redness rising from her neck to her cheeks as she leaned against Farkas’s chest. Farkas tightened his grip on Lena’s shoulders and glared up at Paarthurnax. What in Oblivion was he playing at?

“I thought so. Up, Dovahkiin, come closer. I have a challenge for you. During our first greeting, I granted you a _dov’s_ understanding of fire. Borri gave you the last word of power. Use Fire Breath on me, to the height of your ability,” he said, standing erect on his back legs, his tail twitching, his ragged wings spread out. “I swear to you on the blood we share, I have good reason for this. I have no interest in squandering your life.”

Lena stood up and looked around at Farkas, shrugging. “Ok,” she said, and shook her limbs a little to release some of the tension she felt. She took a deep breath, and Shouted.

Gold flames rose from her body and surrounded the dragon in a firestorm that, to any other being, would result in annihilation. Lena backed up as Paarthurnax raised a back claw the size of a cave bear, and brought it down slowly over the huge boulder just to her right. His eyes bored into hers as the great stone crumbled.

Acting on instinct, Farkas drew his sword, but was powerless to stop pieces of the boulder spraying in their direction. Lena deployed a ward as he dragged them both away from the rubble.

As the conflagration died down, they warily watched the dragon as he studied them, his head tilted, his breath even. Slightly singed, but otherwise unaffected by Lena's strongest Shout. “What did you learn, Dovahkiin?”

Lena caught her breath and pulled her tunic out of Farkas’s grasp, smoothing it back over her hips. He let go, but kept his sword drawn behind the ward. “Paarthurnax. Are you my enemy?” She didn’t see how it could be so, but maybe he was. Maybe the Blades were right, and there were no dragons who didn’t want to see the world burn.

A minute swept by, and Lena’s ward sputtered out. And then, the great dragon slowly lowered his head to her level and rumbled, “ _what did you learn_ , Dovahkiin? Think of the stone, think of Alduin…”

Lena took a deep breath and looked around at the broken stone, some of the pieces as big as her torso. At Farkas, his face like a stormcloud. And finally back at Paarthurnax, the melancholy smile on his craggy face blurred by her tears. “Oh _gods_ ,” she said, breathless, and grasped Farkas’s hand. Walking toward the dragon, she exhaled heavily and sank to her knees in the snow. If he, ancient and withered as he was...

“She…she can’t fight Alduin.” Farkas looked up at Paarthurnax with red-rimmed eyes reflecting a strange mixture of relief and despair. He sheathed his sword, his left hand holding Lena’s, resting on her shoulder. “She can’t.”

“Seven, you fought. Seven small, weak _dov_ under Alduin’s orders to leave you alive. You never suspected he was sending his underlings to bloody you for the hunt.” Paarthurnax watched her shudder as she broke, finally ready to understand. "Alduin would never allow his strongest lieutenants to engage you. You would never survive. And they, the mightiest of the _dov_ , still pale in comparison to the firstborn of Akatosh. As do I.”

She looked up at him, tears streaking her cheeks. “But…the _Thu’um_ …my powers. Isn’t that…”

“You are powerful beyond the measure of _joor_ , Dovahkiin, but Alduin just has to flick you with his claw, or send a fiery boulder in your direction, and no ward you possess would be enough to save you,” the ancient dragon rumbled. “Your Shouts cannot hope to defeat Alduin in battle. _It was never part of the plan._ ”

Lena felt Farkas’s hand tighten on her shoulder as a flicker of hope sparked to life in her chest. She swiped at her eyes and stood up, brushing snow from her leggings. “Tell me.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pruzah - good  
> Joor- mortal  
> Vahzah- truth  
> Keizal- Skyrim  
> Monahven- Throat of the World


	29. Those Guys Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farkas and Lena enlist the assistance of the Companions to put Paarthurnax's plan into action. They run into unexpected difficulties, and secrets are revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's reading, commenting, "liking," and messaging. This story is a joy to write, and I do plan to finish it. This latest chapter was delayed for a few reasons, a spring break trip being chief among them. The next chapter might be delayed as well. My husband is leaving the country for a few months, and we'll be spending most of my leisure time together over the next couple of weeks, but if I get a good idea, I might try to post a shorter chapter sooner than I expect.

The wagon driver could scarce believe his luck. He’d been driving the treacherous Winterhold route for years, and his passengers seldom offered to assist with anything dangerous. Milk-drinkers, the lot of them. Not today! These guys could help me kill some wolves, he thought cheerfully, snapping the reins gently over his sturdy horse and glancing back at his current fare. Maybe even bears, should it come to it.

He zoned for a bit as they crossed into The Pale, thinking of his son, out fighting with the Legion. And his wife, back home in Whiterun caring for their baby daughter, unexpected after so many childless years. Skyrim could still surprise him, he mused, even though his day-to-day life seemed so humdrum. That was his last thought before an arrow thwacked into the side of the wagon. He snapped the reins more sharply than he’d meant to, and the horse took off over rough terrain, sending his passengers and their weapons clattering to the floor.

Regaining his composure, the driver attempted to bring the wagon under control, but he could hear riders behind them, and more arrows whizzing by. The horse shrieked and turned. The bench rattled, and he looked around to see one of his passengers clamber onto the seat beside him, her knuckles white as she gripped the side of the box, and her green eyes wide. She turned toward the horse and… _whispered_. The air shook with the force of…whatever she said, and within seconds, the horse had calmed, and slowed. Once the wagon stopped, she exhaled heavily.

“Hobble the horse before she bolts again. That effect won’t last forever. And get under the cart. I don’t know who these people are, but we’ll take care of it.” She nodded one last time and jumped down, her bow extended, a shiny green arrow nocked.

He obeyed, taking care of the horse and climbing into the compartment below the driver’s seat, shaking. He was worried about bears, not mercenaries. And what was that…faint shadow moving across the northern sky? Talos help them all.

 

* * *

 

  
Lena crept to the back of the cart and saw mounted riders advancing as Farkas, Vilkas, Delphine, Njada, and Ria all jumped down, shields and weapons raised. “Who?”

Farkas shook his head. “No idea. Can’t tell. Maybe just bandits?”

Vilkas squinted, shielding his eyes with his hand. “I don’t think so. They’re wearing capes. Looks like…Vigilants? But why…”

“They’re almost here,” Delphine said. “We’ll find out what they want soon enough.”

They ran behind the cart as the strange riders slowed to a stop amid clouds of stirred-up dust.

“Dragonborn! Show yourself!” the lead rider bellowed.

The Companions turned to Lena, eyebrows raised. “Do you know-“ Njada began.

Lena shook her head, and took a deep breath, clearing her throat before speaking. “Who are you to command me and assault my friends?”

“We are those who would have you answer for your crimes. Necromancy! Consorting with the undead!”

Njada hissed. "Those...zealots, or whatever. Has to be, right? We haven’t had any trouble out of them for months, though. Hoped they’d disappeared.”

Vilkas nodded, and sneaked a look around the corner of the wagon. “They’re not heavily armored or weaponed, aside from their archers. Ten riders altogether. Because of their capes, it’s hard to tell, but they may have a mage.”

Delphine grinned and nudged Lena with her shoulder. “So do we.”

Ria’s hand shook as she pulled her shield in. “What should we do?”

Lena and Farkas looked at each other, and Lena nodded. “I’m going out there. Cover me, and watch for anything sneaky. I’ll talk to them first. I don’t want any lives lost if they don’t have to be. Sound good?”

Farkas frowned, but nodded. “We’re right behind you.”

Lena walked around the cart, her bow still pulled back. Her back ached with the effort, but she kept her face inscrutable. “I believe we have a miscommunication here,” she said, “I am no necromancer. We are _not_ werewolves. Look at my eyes. Do you see _anything_ of the wolf? What’s your name?”

“I am Tyndall, follower of Meridia. We know what you are, Dragonborn,” he said, his blue eyes flashing in the morning sun. “The Companions have always been werewolves, and we’ve had enough of undead monsters terrorizing the country. And you…using the souls of the dead to work your magic.”

"I don't know what Torvar told you, but we're not werewolves. None of us. And I use dragon magic, not necromancy.”

“Death is death. You devour souls – it is the same. And Torvar knew what you are. What you _all_ are. He traced the werewolf who killed and dismembered his parents back to Whiterun-“

Lena turned her head sharply back to the cart at this, but went on, lowering her bow slightly. “What’s your end game here? Do you hope to defeat us? I don’t want to kill anyone, and you’re no match for the Companions.”

“We don’t have to defeat the Companions, Dragonborn. _Just you,_ ” Tyndall said, making a waving motion with his hand.

Lena heard the Companions running toward her and hissed as an arrow whizzed by, scratching her arm at the joint between her gauntlet and cuirass. She dropped to the dirt, unable to move. A second later, Farkas crouched above her, covering her body with his armored one. Grasping hands reached underneath Farkas, trying to pull her toward the horses. She watched a zealot using all his strength in a futile struggle to shove Farkas away, like a puppy pushing a bear. If she could have, she would have laughed.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Ria cut the zealot down, and Farkas relaxed and then tensed again a moment later. What now, she thought. From somewhere to her left, she heard one of the riders scream, and saw the shadow overhead, and the gout of fire as it sprayed the ground. Delphine screamed instructions to Njada and Ria, and the heat washed over them all in waves.

“Lena,” Farkas whispered, terror building in his chest. He couldn’t feel her breathing, he couldn’t feel her heartbeat, but her staring eyes didn’t _look_ dead…and there were no wounds other than a scratch on her arm. She can’t be dead, he chanted to himself. She _can’t_ be dead.

Lena felt a drop of sweat fall from Farkas’s forehead and roll down her neck. She moved to wipe it away, and gasped, breathing dusty, hot air into her parched lungs. The stench of burning flesh and hair seared her nostrils. “I’m ok, babe. Let me up,” she said, reaching for her bow.

Lena staggered to her feet and faced the gray dragon, joining the Companions in shooting arrow after arrow at the beast. Iron-scented blood rained down on them as it swooped, screaming in pain and rage. Finally, the dragon landed, his wings tattered and useless. He roared, and Lena cast her strongest ward, but she could feel the fire breaking through. She tried to Shout, but her power was…dormant, somehow. Unreachable. Her skin burned under her armor.

Farkas and Vilkas pulled her away, and they ran around to the dragon’s sides, slashing and hacking where their swords could reach. Lena threw her glass Dagger of Fire, and the dragon shrieked as it skewered the base of its neck. It tore at the burning knife, catching Ria in its claw and throwing her thirty paces away, where she lay, motionless.

Vilkas yelled, and he and Delphine jumped to where Lena’s dagger was still burning. Avoiding the dragon’s snapping jaws was a challenge, but within minutes, between the five of them, they dealt the beast a mortal wound. Lena, having finally regained her strength, motioned them all away. The dragon writhed and rolled as it wailed in agony, a surprisingly high-pitched scream. As soon as they were clear, she Shouted, and the beast burst into flames.

“Ria!” Njada yelled, as Lena ran over, healing spells ready. Ria’s face was greenish, and her leg thrust out at a strange angle. Lena lay her hands over Ria’s heart, and watched as the woman’s color returned under the gold light. She cast the spell again as Njada held Ria’s leg straight, and felt all the broken parts knit together under her hands. Soon, Ria’s breathing was even, and her eyes opened.

“I think I want to stick to bears from now on, Lena,” she said, groaning, and passed out once more to complete her healing in sleep.

Lena huffed in relief, lowering her forehead to Ria’s. She’d been her first friend among the Companions, and her death would have lain heavy on Lena’s heart. “Everyone ok?” she asked, wincing as she stood. “Are all the zealots dead?”

Vilkas shook his head. “Their fearless leader’s still alive. Shaking and gibbering, but alive. You’d think he’d never seen a dragon before.”

Farkas sheathed his sword. “I’m going to check on the driver,” he said, jogging back to the wagon.

It was in one piece, he thought as he reached their conveyance. Good sign. “Hey, are you ok?”

The driver stared at him with wide blue eyes from under the driver’s seat. “What was…was that a _dragon_?”

He nodded. “It was. It’s dead now. What’s your name?”

“Elgar, Companion,” he said, rolling out of the compartment. “The green-eyed woman. Is she really-“

“We’ll talk about that later. I just wanted to make sure you’re all right. Stay here,” he warned, running back toward his green-eyed woman in time to see her limp over to the smoldering dragon.

As she neared it, reaching down to retrieve her dagger, the fiery mist of its soul arose and slammed into her. She smiled as its fire joined with hers, and turned, glowing and fierce, toward the remaining zealot.

He shrank back into the dirt as she stalked toward him. He’d never been so scared. His robes were wet, and not with blood. He’d only heard stories, had never seen such a thing up close. And now this fiery, glowing woman would surely kill him, he thought.

“Did you _see_ that?” Lena shouted. “ _Did_ you? Are you and your god or lord or whatever prepared to take dozens more on? And Alduin, ten times bigger and stronger? Exactly what was your plan? Paralyze me for what…fifteen seconds. Overpower me and five other Companions? With your band of...” she motioned around to all the dead zealots, “ _mighty warriors?_ That wouldn’t have worked out even if the dragon hadn’t attacked.”

“W-we wanted to take you to the W-World Eater,” he stammered. “Alduin will leave if he gets you. W-we-“

“You idiot,” Delphine groaned, sheathing her sword. “Alduin could have taken Lena any time. He doesn’t want her submission. He wants her to fight him in some majestic, world-ending battle.”

“We want the dragons _gone_! You’re here, and the dragons…they’re _killing_ us, and you’re the reason they’re here,” he shouted, flecks of spittle spraying his robes. “If they kill you, they’ll leave. Why else would they be here?”

“Um…destiny? Insanity? Shits and giggles?” Lena said, hands in the air. “Pick your poison. Point is, Alduin wants the world to end. Even if he kills me, he’s going to destroy it.”

“You want to kill the only person who can stop it?” Farkas huffed, elbowing Vilkas in the ribs. “And you and Aela thought I was stupid.”

“We _never did_ ,” Vilkas said. “But this guy is beyond…look. Go back to your base. Temple. Cave, whatever. Tell them what happened. Tell them Lena is the only reason you’re still alive. And tell them Lena is the _only_ person who can keep Alduin from ending the world. And-“

“But I can’t! The dragons-“

“Farkas, tear his arms off,” Vilkas said.

“With pleasure,” Farkas walked toward him, cracking his knuckles. “I owe him that much after Jorrvaskr, and Vignar.”

“No, wait! I’ll do it. I...believe it. It’s just… Stendarr alone-“

“I thought you guys worshipped Meridia,” Njada interjected, taking her helmet off and scratching her head as she felt a whisper of… _something_ …brush past her. She looked around at Delphine, who nodded, but shrugged.

“We do. But Stendarr hates the undead, and their Vigilants have tasked us –“

Njada shook her head, the strange whisper forgotten for the moment. “ _Stop_. You know who else Stendarr hates? Daedra. Like Meridia. They’re using you. How can you work for someone who thinks you’re just as scummy as werewolves? Which,” she motioned around to the group, “we’re not.”

He looked up at the Companions. “You’re really not werewolves?”

Njada touched her hand to her forehead and groaned. “Think about it. We just fought a dragon. If we were werewolves, why didn’t we change? Become stronger? There are no werewolves in Jorrvaskr. I don’t know where Torvar got his information, but…no. It wasn’t us.”

Lena noticed Vilkas and Farkas look at each other, and then quickly at the ground. Something was up. She sighed, and crouched before the zealot, a few paces away, her nose wrinkling at the stench of his muddy, urine-soaked, and charred robe. “Look. Alduin has saved my life twice already. Once at Helgen, from the Imperial headsman. The second time, we were fighting Hircine. If he’d wanted me…I couldn’t have fought him. All your ploy would have gotten you was dead,” she said, leaning forward a little, resting on one knee. “I’ll tell you something not many people know. He thinks he’s doing the world a favor by destroying it. Putting us out of our misery. It’s true.”

The zealot seemed to think it over, and nodded, suddenly agreeable. “I’ll do it.” He stood up. “It might take some convincing, but…you have to know. We didn’t…we weren’t part of the attack on Jorrvaskr. Yes, we thought you were werewolves, and _yes_ , we believe werewolves need to die. And _yes_ , we wanted to turn the Dragonborn over-“

“You’re not helping your cause here, man,” Delphine huffed. “Exactly what are you trying to say?”

“Attacking within the city was not something we would have done. Risking innocent lives…no. We petitioned the Silver Hand and thought we and the Vigilants had convinced them to wait. We were wrong,” he said, his hands outstretched toward the Companions.

“Arnbjorn,” Vilkas said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking at Delphine for a moment before turning back to Tyndall. Delphine and Njada stared at him, their mouths hanging open. “The name you’re looking for is Arnbjorn. Njada’s right – there _are_ no werewolves at Jorrvaskr. But there _used_ to be. Arnbjorn was one. He left. Kodlak said he joined the Dark Brotherhood.”

Farkas nodded. “He could have done…what you said was done to Torvar’s parents. He enjoyed killing. The Dark Brotherhood would have welcomed someone like him.”

Fire returned to the zealot’s eyes. “Thank you. This information will carry weight with my people. Rest assured, we will not bother you again, Dragonborn.”

“Are you still working with the Silver Hand?” Lena narrowed her eyes. “If there’re werewolves terrorizing the province, we sympathize with their cause, but not their methods. Torture and experimentation on sentient creatures is not acceptable.”

He blanched, and shook his head. “We saw one of their…laboratories, they call them…not long after…” he swallowed hard, and continued. “We cut ties. The Vigilants might be harsh, and they might be using us, but they’re not torturers.”

“Well at least there’s _that_ ,” Lena said, rolling her eyes. “Good luck finding this Arnbjorn. He seems like a worthy target of your group’s…enthusiasm.”

Farkas walked up to Lena as they watched the zealot walk away and spoke softly, his hand on her shoulder. “Did you have something to do with his change of heart? I thought I felt something…”

Lena sighed heavily, and smiled. "The Bend Will Shout, the one Wulfgar didn’t want to teach me. My will was that he see the truth. I took a gamble, but it worked.”

Farkas watched Vilkas gently carry Ria back to the wagon as Njada and Delphine collected fallen arrows. “I still say Alduin doesn’t stand a chance, you know. No matter what Paarthurnax or that prophecy says.”

“We’re going to have to have a talk eventually, you know,” Lena said. “About the beastblood. About what Paarthurnax told us. No doubt Delphine will have questions. And Njada and Ria.” She looked up at Farkas. “Should we tell them the truth? The concept of an Elder Scroll is crazy enough. The fact that we’re going to use it to punch a hole in time itself so I can learn a dragon-crippling Shout from people who lived thousands of years ago…I’m not sure I’d believe it if I hadn’t seen so much already.”

He wrapped his arms around her from behind. “They need to know what we’re up against. And the beastblood? Yes, but Vilkas can decide where and when. I'm sure he’s going to want to talk to Delphine in his own way.”

Lena leaned back and kissed his cheek. “Good idea. Come on, let’s help Elgar get the wagon back on the road. I want that Scroll in my hands soonest, and if Urag gro-Shub really has it, we might have a long night ahead of us.”

 

 


	30. Secrets and Confidence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lena finds assistance in Winterhold, and tempers flare among the Companions. Matters are complicated when someone from Lena's past tracks her down.

“Lena!” The golden-skinned elf rose from her bench at the gate. She looked over Lena’s shoulder. “Bringing in new initiates?”

Lena grinned. “Good evening, Faralda. No, not today,” she said, motioning Farkas to her side. “This is my husband, Farkas, and his brother, Vilkas. And Delphine, Njada, and Ria.”

“Oh, Companions!” Faralda’s eyes widened. “You know, I always forget about your other alliances.” She inclined her head toward the group. “Lovely to meet you all. And congratulations again. Everyone was surprised to get your letter, but I remember you telling me you’d known each other for years, so I suppose it’s not all that shocking.”

Lena looked sideways at Farkas. “He’s all Nord. By his standards, it took too long. Anything exciting going on?”

Faralda’s strawberry-blonde ponytails swished as she tossed her head and groaned. “Ancano’s in residence this week, so steer clear of the Arch-Mage. You’ll find our illustrious adviser securely fastened to Savos’s backside, and the actuality is just as pleasant as the imagery, I promise. And,” she lowered her voice, “Stormcloaks are staying at the inn. There’s room for you and your guests in the dorms, if you’re staying overnight. I believe you’ll find Mirabelle and Tolfdir will insist.”

Lena huffed. “I’ll talk to them about it.”

“And what’s on the agenda while you’re here?”

“We need Urag’s help. Something to do with that… _other_ alliance of mine.”

“Indeed. Well, I’ll let you get to it. Hopefully we’ll see you later this evening.” Faralda nodded as the group passed through the gate and walked carefully over the crumbled bridge leading to the College.

“What was that about Stormcloaks? Aren’t College mages supposed to be neutral, like we are?” Njada asked, pulling her fur cloak tightly around her body.

“We – they – _are_ neutral. Supposed to be, anyway. But Faralda…she knows who I am. The other two mages she mentioned, Mirabelle and Tolfdir, they do too. I want to stay anonymous, so I keep away from both sides. Ancano’s a Thalmor justiciar. Adviser to the Arch-Mage, but we all know what he’s really doing here. We misdirect him as much as we can,” Lena said, noticing Njada’s face tighten a bit. “Are you going to be ok if we happen to bump into him? I know you’re supposed to be neutral, but you can hardly help what you feel. Gods know I hate them too.”

“No, I mean, yeah, I’ll be fine,” Njada said, hugging her furs again and smiling a brittle smile. “Just a little cold.”

 

* * *

  
  
“Hm…” Urag gro-Shub grunted as Lena walked up to the circulation desk in the Arcaneum. “You’re back, huh? Tolfdir started to wonder if you’d quit. Or died. You haven’t been in touch since you got married. Thanks for the invitation, by the way.”

Lena blushed. “You know if it’d been a big ceremony, we’d have – “ she looked at him out of the corner of one eye. “You’re joking. You almost had me there.”

The big Orc chuckled, his eyes twinkling under his bushy brows. “As if I’d leave my library. There aren’t enough angry atronachs in the world to deal with the miscreants here who don’t know how to care for books.” He crossed his hands over his belly and leaned back in his chair. “Anyway, congratulations. I suppose this is the husband,” he said, pointing at Farkas, who hovered closely behind Lena, laughing under his breath.

“Farkas,” he said, “good to meet you.”

“Now,” Urag leaned forward, his elbows on the desk. “What can I help you with?”

“I need an Elder Scroll.”

Urag stared at Lena for a moment before bursting into raucous laughter. “Come on, Lena. One joke per day is the limit in the Arcaneum.”

“I’m serious, Urag,” she said, her lips pursed as she laid her palms on the desk. “I need to know you can keep a secret. Even from the Arch-Mage.”

Urag narrowed his eyes. “It won’t hurt him, will it?”

“No. I’m keeping it for his own protection, and mine,” she huffed, then took a deep breath. “I’m the dragonborn. That’s why I’m rarely here. And _that’s_ why I need the Scroll, to deal with Alduin.”

Urag opened his mouth, and shut it again. He cracked his knuckles. “You’re… _serious_. Who else knows?”

“Here? Faralda, Mirabelle, and Tolfdir. I had to have people run interference for me with training. And to understand when I needed more complex spells than a novice would normally use. But not many people know. The Companions, of course,” she said, motioning back to the entrance where Njada and Ria hung back, whispering together. “Jarl Balgruuf. A few people in Whiterun, but they know to hold their tongues. I don’t want to become a weapon in the Civil War, and they don’t want Whiterun involved, anyway. Well, most of them don’t.”

Urag took a deep breath. “Alright. But…what makes you think I might have an Elder Scroll?”

“Well,” Lena said, a little surprised the librarian believed her story so readily, “you know who Paarthurnax is, right?”

He raised his brows. “Of course. What kind of librarian would I be if I didn’t?”

“According to him, to find an Elder Scroll, I have to go to Cyrodiil and gain audience with a Moth Priest. Or…I could see what the librarian of the Arcaneum knows. And here we are.”

“Paarthurnax?” He turned his head half to the side and looked at her out of slitted eyes. “ _Paarthurnax_.”

Lena looked at him, nodding.

“You’re telling me that _THE_ Paarthurnax, Alduin’s brother, second son of Akatosh…is alive. And told you – _told you_ – to come see me.”

“Yep.”

Urag sat with his hand over his mouth for a solid minute, then stood up, banging his palms on the desk. “Do you know what this _means_? To the College…to Skyrim? This is _Paarthurnax_. He’s a living history book.”

Lena nodded.

Urag leaned over the desk and sighed. “Do you…do you think he’d talk to me?”

Lena smiled. “I think, yes, he will. Especially if you can help us find a Scroll. You’ll have to leave the Arcaneum, though.”

His black eyes twinkled. “Paarthurnax is as good as a thousand libraries, girl.” He sat back down and starting writing in a blank book. “Ask about…yeah, gotta know that…”

Lena looked over her shoulder at Vilkas and Delphine, sitting at a table and leafing through a book. When she looked back to Urag, he was still muttering to himself. “Um, so…the Scroll?”

He looked up at them and blinked. “Why doesn’t Paarthurnax know where it is? He’s been alive longer than the rest of us.”

“Yes, but he only knows what his sources tell him, and no one seems to know about the Scrolls. He could hardly fly freely around Skyrim, right? He did tell me a few things. That, if there _is_ one hidden in Skyrim, it’d have to be somewhere old and isolated. He also said there was a legend one was stolen from Akatosh and hidden somewhere in Skyrim. And that the College had a part in it. Does that mean anything to you?”

Urag sat back. He steepled his fingers under his bearded chin, his quill caught between his thumbs. “Malacath’s bloody hide,” he swore, standing up and banging his knee on the desk. He limped over to one of the locked bookcases and fumbled with his keys.

Farkas looked at Lena, who shrugged. “No idea. But he’s obviously onto something.”

Urag ran back to the desk and opened the book he’d taken down, leafing through the pages. “Do you know what the Glamoril is? Ever heard of that?”

“No. Sounds Elvish, though.”

“Yeah. It’s an Elvish word,” he pointed at a page with a thick, green finger. “There it is. If this is…it still could be a coincidence, but if it’s true, Shalidor was onto much more than-”

Delphine jumped up. “Shalidor? _Labyrinthian_ Shalidor?”

Urag looked around Lena. “You know your history…Companions don’t usually go in for that sort of thing. If it doesn’t concern Ysgramor, it’s not important.”

“Well, I’m not a Companion. I’m Grandmaster of the Blades, so…”

Urag looked back and forth between the two women. “Lena, you’ve been holding out on me. Two wellsprings of history in your confidence and I’ve never…ok, here’s the deal. I tell you where the Scroll is, and I get a conversation with the Grandmaster here. _And_ one with Paarthurnax.”

Lena looked back at Delphine, who nodded, smiling. Lena turned back to Urag and closed her eyes. “One minute,” she said, holding out her hand, one finger up.

“What are you - ?”

“Shh…” Lena shook her head a little. Urag watched a tiny tear roll down her cheek. She nodded twice, and opened her watering eyes.

“What in Oblivion was that?”

“Paarthurnax sends his thanks. If you’re willing to climb the mountain and keep his secret, he’s willing to give you an audience and talk about history. In fact, he seemed enthusiastic about it. You might regret asking, to be honest.”

“You just…” he clenched his quill. “You just _spoke_ to Paarthurnax? In your head?”

“Dragon thing.”

“Good enough,” he said in a choking voice, turning a page and showing it to Lena. There was an hourglass-shaped maze on it. “Do _you_ know who Shalidor was?”

“What I heard, he created some maze for training mages. Pretty barbaric. Not in use anymore.”

“Yeah, that’s true, but if this means what I think it might…well, there may have been another purpose to the maze. Labyrinthian was built on the ancient city of Bromjunaar, a stronghold of the Dragon Cult. It would definitely be old enough. The history of that place…a piece of the Staff of Chaos was hidden there, you know. The Staff of Magnus is supposedly hidden there, although that’s little more than unfounded legend. But, it _is_ a good place to hide things.”

“Why do you think the Scroll might be there?”

“Well, it goes back to this Glamoril. It’s supposedly an artifact stolen from Akatosh himself, just like the dragon’s legend. The word means 'secret of life,'” he said, stroking his beard. “Shalidor supposedly spent the latter part of his life studying it or looking for it, depending on what you read. An Elder Scroll is…well, no one knows what it really is. Something written by the Gods. Or a fragment of creation itself. Pure magic, outside of time. So, describing it as a 'secret of life' would be appropriate, yeah? What makes this more interesting…you’re familiar with the effects of reading the Scrolls?”

“Blindness, insanity. I’ve read about Septimus Signus, somewhere out on the ice up here,” Lena said. “But the Moth Priests seem to have escaped the insanity part.”

“They have. But they’re highly trained. Shalidor, as great a mage as he was, was no Moth Priest. You know,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “there’s a story about Shalidor, that he holed himself up in Labyrinthian and shut away the rest of the world. Even drove his wife off when he walked right in front of her and called her name, as though he couldn’t see her. Like he didn’t know she was there. Maybe he _was_ just totally immersed in his research, but then again…” Urag mused as he looked at Lena, a sly smile curving his tusks up to his nose.

Lena gasped. “You think…he had the Scroll all that time. In Labyrinthian. But…that place is immense. It would take us weeks to search it.”

Urag shook his head. “You need to start with the maze. You know, the barbaric test for mages. There’re so many places to hide things in there, so I’ve been told. And though Shalidor is part of our history, Savos won’t let anyone in the College anywhere near Labyrinthian. Says it’s too dangerous,” he scoffed. “Ridiculous. We’re not up here to have garden parties.” He closed the book and handed it to Lena. “So it’s plenty isolated. I think it’s your best bet. If there’s a Scroll hidden somewhere in Skyrim, that’s where it’ll be.”

Lena sighed. “Thank you. And I won’t forget our deal.” She walked toward the door, but turned around as she heard Urag noisily clear his throat.

“Can I see…can you Shout in here?” He held up his palms. “Without hurting the books?”

Lena looked around the Arcaneum, making sure no one else was hanging about. “Pick up your axe,” she said, shaking her head at his objection. “I know you have one behind the desk. Pick it up.”

He reached under the desk and pulled out an Orcish war axe, holding it like a flag, out to his right.

“ _Zun Haal Viik!_ ” Lena focused her _Thu’um_ into a quieter-than-normal Shout, snorting as the axe skittered across the floor of the library, landing at the foot of a stone column.

Farkas slung an arm around Lena, kissing her temple. “My woman’s an artist, is what she is,” he said, grinning at the librarian.

Urag looked from Lena to his sword, and sat limply down, almost missing his chair. He laughed. “You’d _better_ not forget our deal.”

 

* * *

 

 

Vilkas gazed over Delphine’s shoulder at the creepy dragon priest altar in the little shelter outside Labyrinthian. They’d dragged into the ancient city in the wee hours of the morning, and everyone was far too tired to venture into the maze. They weren’t too tired to yell, though, he thought, rubbing his eyes. The Circle’s decision to keep the beastblood a secret had been festering since they’d revealed the existence of Arnbjorn, and Njada and Ria’d waited only until they’d dropped their bedrolls to bring it up. Loudly.

“We – Lena, Farkas, and myself – we can’t expect any of you to sympathize with what we did. But this has been a secret – a tradition – for hundreds of years, and who were we to refuse? The Companions were the only family we knew,” he said, letting his arms fall to his sides, “so joining the Circle, we didn’t question it. Even when Kodlak was looking for the cure, we thought it was about Sovngarde. Not about the blood going bad and our luck turning…worse. He still didn’t tell us about Arnbjorn even after we found the Shards of Wuuthrad, so…”

Lena sighed. “That was my fault. By the time we found the shards and realized what the Silver Hand was up to, I’d _just_ taken the beastblood and thought it would make me stronger. A stronger dragonborn. I needed that strength. And it did, for awhile,” she said, closing her eyes. “So strong, you have no idea. But then, well, the wolf and the dragon didn’t get along so well.”

Delphine stayed quiet, picking at her nails. She and Vilkas had spoken about this already, back in Winterhold, and she hadn’t been sure how she felt. _If_ she could come to terms with the fact that she’d bedded a werewolf. _And_ was falling in love with a man who used to _be_ a werewolf. Who’d _been_ a werewolf when they’d met. And who’d said _nothing_.

Njada narrowed her eyes. “Gods. You put everyone in danger. Did you _know_ – “

“We didn’t know any of us had killed – murdered – in werewolf form,” Farkas said. “We never went off alone, and never went feral. _Any_ of us. We didn’t work with Arnbjorn – he got kicked out of the Companions years ago. Before we were in the Circle. Kodlak only told us after Aela and Skjor left…it’s one of the reasons he wanted the beastblood cured. He thought –“

“And he was right,” Ria said, her chin in her hands. “It was a poison. Look what happened to you, Lena. Look at Kodlak now. All that pain he was in...”

“Yes, which is why we made the choice we did. Which is why Skjor and Aela made the choice to leave. That wasn’t an easy decision for them, but if the Silver Hand was going to keep coming, it was the only choice they could make.” Vilkas picked up his dagger and slowly twirled it. “We just...didn’t _think_ of it the way you do. It was _good_ for us until it…it wasn’t. But not a day goes by that I don’t wonder what might have been. If we’d found the cure earlier. If Lena’d never taken the blood. If…” he leaned over and drove the dagger into the crumbled stone floor, “maybe Vignar would still be alive.”

Delphine cleared her throat. “I believe you.” She looked at Vilkas, who stared at her like she’d grown another head. “What you did when that blibbering zealot – you didn’t have to tell him about Arnbjorn. You didn’t _have_ to admit there might be something to Torvar’s story.”

Vilkas slid off his backpack and knelt in front of Delphine.

“It was all just a big mistake,” she whispered, her eyes red and wet.

Vilkas nodded, his mouth a thin line. He took her hands. “I understand. If you want to leave us, I’ll escort you back to Riverwood. If you –“

“No, you idiot. Do you _really_ think I’d leave if we weren’t together? Abandon _this_? This is bigger than us.” She laughed and swiped at her face, pushing her hair back. “But that wasn’t what I was talking about. The mistake was taking the beastblood and lying about it. For you, for the Companions…going back however many centuries. A huge mistake. And one you’ve tried to rectify,” she said, kissing his knuckles and looking around the room as Vilkas sat back, finally able to take a deep breath. “They _should’ve_ told the truth, and they’re paying for it. They lost friends and family. Lena almost lost her life. But…they could have kept lying, and they didn’t. That counts for something with me.”

Ria stood up. “I’m glad you two are nice and cozy. But, _we’re_ not so easy to convince,” she said, pointing to Njada, her voice rising to a yell. “You risked our lives, and we defended you! I actually felt _bad_ for you when all this happened. I _told_ you. To your _face_. How ridiculous it was that you might be a werewolf. And _you_ let me go on and on, knowing Torvar was right the whole time.”

Lena stood up. “You really think we-“

Ria wiped her eyes. “No. I don’t think you meant for anyone to get hurt, but you didn’t care enough to tell the truth, to warn us. I don’t think you thought of anything besides not getting caught,” she said, pacing around the circular room. “And Alduin! You’re not going to _fight_ him? After all _this_? You’re just taking some _other_ dragon’s word for it that you don’t need to? That’s handy for him, isn’t it? Don’t you think he’d want his bro-“

Her voice broke off as a roar sounded from outside the shelter.

“Shit,” Farkas swore, jumping up. “Sounds like a frost troll.” He drew his sword and walked to one of the arches around the shelter. “Should have stood guard.”

Everyone scurried for their weapons, but before they could run outside, they heard a clamor of yells, metallic clanging, and more roars. And then silence.

Ria looked around the group, her face twisted into a sheepish scowl. “Dammit! The one time I lose my temper...I’m sorry. I didn’t think about the noise.”

Farkas crept toward the entrance, his sword and shield raised. Vilkas and Njada followed close behind, with Lena, Delphine, and Ria standing back, arrows nocked.

“What’s this I hear about the dragonborn refusing to fight the World Eater?” Lena watched a man carrying a torch slowly saunter into the shelter. “You’ve come a long way from the executioner’s cart, _prisoner_ , just to give up now.”

Ulfric Stormcloak lifted his torch and grinned, tossing a troll’s head on the ground and casting his eyes around the room. “I believe the phrase you’re looking for is ‘you’re welcome.’”

 

 

 

 

 


	31. Can't Have Everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ulfric reveals his motives, and Delphine takes a risk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, 1,000 hits! Thanks to everyone who's reading, kudos-ing, subscribing/bookmarking, and commenting. That the first story I've ever written is getting any attention at all makes writing all the more fun. :)

Without taking her eyes from Ulfric, Lena propped her bow against the wall and made sure the dagger at her hip was ready to pull. She moved to stand next to Farkas and took his hand. “What are you doing here?”

“Come to talk to you, obviously,” Ulfric said, casting torchlight around the room. “I’m certainly not here for the scenery.”

“But what are you doing _here_?” Farkas clarified, lowering his sword, but keeping it unsheathed. “Why come to a creepy, troll-infested ruin in the middle of nowhere? If you knew who she was-“

“Don’t be daft, boy,” Ulfric said, still staring at Lena. “I can’t very well walk through the gates into Whiterun or any other city and request an audience, now can I? Not with the majority of the jarls on the bad side of things. Even Balgruuf might hand me over to the Empire, and we’ve known each other since our milk-drinking days.”

Ulfric’s eyes finally flickered over Farkas. His appraising glance stilled at their clasped hands. “I see I’m too late, then.”

Lena peered at him through the glare of the torch. “Too late for what? And how, exactly, did you find me?”

Ulfric walked over to an old chest near the dragon altar, placing his torch in a sconce on the wall. “May I sit?” He didn’t wait for permission. “Come, Dovahkiin, the answer’s pretty clear, isn’t it? I’d made my escape from Helgen, and was crossing the boundary to Eastmarch when I heard it. Everyone heard it. But _I_ knew what it meant. The Greybeards had summoned the dragonborn, and some poor fool would be heading up that mountain soon. Who else, other than pilgrims, would want to climb the 7,000 steps? And then… _multiple_ times? With Companions from Whiterun?”

He laughed. “My spies watched that mountain for months. And imagine my surprise when I realized. Me and you, saved at the block by Alduin, on the very day the World Eater decides to return to Nirn?” He shook his head and leaned back on the chest. “ _What…are_..the chances?”

“I put little stock in destiny. We’re not pieces on a chessboard.” Lena placed a hand on her dagger. She was running out of patience. “My husband asked you a question. Why are you here?”

“And I answered,” he said, looking past Lena and Farkas, noticing the rest of the Companions for the first time. His eyes lingered on Delphine. “I only want to talk.”

“What could the leader of the Stormcloak rebellion have to say to me? The Companions are neutral in the war. _I’m_ a Companion.” She heard movement behind her, and smiled as Ria and Njada joined them, weapons at rest, but ready.

“Hmm…your loyalties are divided. _At best_. And I'd be lying if I said I didn’t want to cultivate some of that loyalty. Is that so wrong? The High King of Skyrim…and the dragonborn at his side.”

Farkas chuckled, his sword jiggling in his hand. The torchlight glinted off the faceted blade as it moved, and Lena rolled her eyes.

“I’m not an accessory, Ulfric,” she said, her lips curled in an expression of disgust. “And I don’t want to be a weapon in this war. I’m on Skyrim’s side. And the best interests of Skyrim and Tamriel, and let’s be real, the entire world, are best served with you and Tullius leaving me alone so I can keep Alduin from killing us all.”

“Ah,” Ulfric said, leaning forward, his chin resting on one fist. “You’ve met with Tullius? How’d that go?”

“No. I wouldn’t seek a meeting with him any more than I’d seek one with you. He was _there_...at Helgen that day, and did nothing to stop my execution. He knew... _knew_ that justiciar had lied, that I was a prisoner, and not some Stormcloak spy. They all knew and did nothing.”

Lena wanted to sit. It was late and she was tired, but somehow sitting in Ulfric’s presence seemed imprudent. It isn't wise to turn your back on a tightly-coiled snake, she thought. “We had a job in Solitude months ago, and I walked within two feet of him. He had no idea who I am, and I mean to keep it that way. I don’t think it’ll be too hard. Most foreign-born Imperials think the dragonborn is a campfire tale.”

“You see how it _is_. The Empire can’t be trusted to stand against the Dominion. Even in the face of what’s right…what’s _just_ ,” he spat, pointing at her with one finger. “Your place is with me if you have hatred for the Thalmor and no respect for the Empire –“

“I never said –“

“What’s your endgame here, Ulfric?” Delphine said in a low, silky voice. She and Vilkas moved closer to Lena. “Let’s say your rebellion is successful, and you’re High King of a _free_ Skyrim. Sounds _lovely_. Nords on top, and the lesser races put… _well_ , wherever you put us, right?” She glared at him.

“Elves don’t-“ Ulfric snarled, but Delphine was on a roll and gave no quarter.

“After this bloody civil war, with your forces weakened and the Empire ousted, its remnants back in Cyrodiil where they belong… With _what_ , exactly, do you plan to beat back the Dominion?” Delphine smirked. “The moral high ground? Useful.”

Lena grinned. Was Delphine trying to irritate Ulfric on purpose? Dangerous proposition. She couldn’t tell how many men Ulfric had with him. She closed her eyes and _whispered_. Three hazy shapes glowed outside the ruin. Only three? The arrogance of the man…

Ulfric’s eyes roamed over the line of unhappy warriors in front of him. He stood up. “I want the dragonborn. I thought I’d made that clear.”

Metal clanked as the Companions raised their weapons. Farkas smiled, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. “She’s already told you. She’s not an accessory and she is _not_ a weapon. She’s not a… _thing_ for you to claim.”

Vilkas sighed and motioned for Ria and Njada to step back. The women did, but kept their weapons ready. Vilkas grinned.

He moved to stand between his steaming brother and the irritating would-be king. “And she’s powerful, yes, but she’s only one woman. A well-flung arrow, an assassin’s blade in the night…and your weapon would be no more. You’re risking Skyrim on a loser’s bet, Ulfric,” Vilkas said, looking over his shoulder at Lena. “No offense, sister.”

“Haven’t I been saying this all along?” Lena snorted. “Listen, Ulfric. I have no idea if I’ll survive my confrontation with Alduin. And yes, there _will_ be one. But if I do…and if I choose a side in this war, it won’t be one bound to weaken Skyrim and force the Dominion’s hand. Because _that’s_ what you’re doing. You’re playing right along with what they want. Do you not _see_ this?”

Delphine laughed, and Ulfric took a step forward, his face reddening. “Stormcloaks are true Nords, and true Nords stand-”

“And true Nords can be used as deftly as _any_ weapon,” Delphine said, walking to her bedroll and rifling through her backpack. “Just so happens, I’m in the mood to be charitable. Lena doesn’t know how right she is, and I have proof.” She tossed a small, leather-bound notebook to Ulfric. “Here. A gift for you. Don’t open it here, I don’t think your pride can take it. But read it when you’re alone. And send me a message when you’re ready to talk.”

Ulfric caught the book. Lena’s shoulders fell as she saw his face whiten, saw the light leave his eyes as he read the cover. However misguided his cause might be, she couldn’t help but sympathize with the man. The Aldmeri Dominion had destroyed both their lives, and the ravages of such a thing were difficult to withstand. She’d been lucky, she thought, squeezing Farkas’s hand. He looked down at her, the tension in his eyes softening into crinkles at the corners.

“ _How_ …do you have this?” Ulfric’s voice was almost a whisper. He shook. With rage, Lena imagined. The muscles of his face rippled as his jaw clenched. He looked up.

Delphine _tsk’ed_ , wagging one finger in front of her chest. “My… _alliance_ …is old and well-connected. You have your spies – I have mine.”

“You’re no Companion,” he said, a tiny flicker of interest lighting his eyes.

“I am not. But in this matter, we place the welfare of Nirn before the fate of any one people. It’ll be easier for Lena to take care of Alduin if she’s free of the Dominion. You want her as a weapon in your arsenal? What do you think the Thalmor would do if they could break her? _Control_ her? Your war is keeping them here, Ulfric. Making _that_ …an inevitability. _Read_.”

“You think no one knows what they are? You think the Empire doesn’t see it?” Lena shrugged, huffing. “Well, maybe Tullius doesn’t. But I do. Read that,” she inclined her head toward the book lying on Ulfric’s open palm. As if his fingers couldn’t bear to close around it. “You know how to get in touch.”

Ulfric hesitated, looking down at the book once more.

Lena held her breath, and exhaled as he finally started toward the exit.

“Ulfric?” Lena said, just as he reached the crumbling archway leading out to Labyrinthian. “We appreciate the help with the trolls.”

Ulfric paused and, after a moment, nodded twice before walking out into the snow.

 


	32. Challenge Accepted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farkas, Lena, and Delphine take on Shalidor's Maze, and find it...not quite like they envisioned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets extremely racy toward the end. That's a warning for those of you who don't like that kind of thing, and encouragement for those of you who do!

The next morning dawned freezing and bright, a snowy wind screaming through the arches of the ruined temple. Last night’s fire was long gone, and although the Companions needed more sleep, the cold, hard floor wouldn’t let them rest. Not to mention the fire of excitement burning in their bellies. If that grumpy librarian was right, they’d find magic beyond comprehension within their grasp before the sun crested.

Lena couldn’t sit still. Having the means to survive Alduin (and to save the world, if Paarthurnax’s gamble paid off) waiting nearby had her spinning like a top. She packed up her bedroll as she ate an apple and a wedge of cheese, and grinned at Farkas as he hurried everyone else along.

Once the campsite was clean, they headed out through the blizzard and trudged through the snow. The towering buttresses of Labyrinthian soared to their left, so they veered right. And there, almost hidden in the drifts, squatted a small overhang and an old, wooden door marked with an hourglass symbol.

They looked at each other through frosty breath. Lena opened the door, and they walked inside, kicking the snow from their boots and clapping their hands to warm their frozen fingers.

“Is that a light?” Lena peered through the gloom and walked faster, Farkas at her side. A wall loomed suddenly in the darkness, and they stared up at a vast ceiling.

Njada whistled. “It looks bigger on the inside,” she said, holding her torch out as far as she could.

In front of the wall was a barren garden surrounding four dim lights, each atop four gnarled, gleaming limbs.

“Staffs?” Vilkas walked up to one and touched it. It hummed and the light flickered, but stayed on. “Can you tell what they’re for?”

Lena looked at the symbols. “There’s one staff for illusion, one for alteration, one for destruction, and one for restoration,” she said, and pursed her lips. “Hm… funny there’s not one for conjuration, if this is supposed to be a test.”

Ria took a jog around the perimeter to search for another staff, in case one had been abandoned by some ancient mage. She, Njada, and Lena had talked before going to bed last night. Although they weren’t fine yet, they would be with time and a little understanding. The two whelps had been devastated by the danger The Circle's secrets had caused, but were beginning to see Lena’s side of things. Lena was a little frustrated by her friends' mistrust, but could see why they'd been hurt. It was a start.

“There’s no other staff lying around,” she said. “But I found this on the ground. It was next to a mummified corpse, so…not sure how much help it’ll be.”

Lena read the charred note, muttering its last line under her breath. “’Conjure not, but be conjured instead,’” she said, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t like the sound of that. Conjuration has never been something I enjoyed doing. I certainly don’t want to be on the receiving end.” She shrugged. “Oh, well. No choice, I guess.”

The group readied their weapons to enter the maze, but Vilkas stepped in front of the group, his hands out. “Wait. What about Ulfric? Or other… _things_ outside? I know it looks like he’s gone, but what if he comes back while we’re in the maze? We’d be surrounded. I think three of us should go in, and three of us should stay here, and outside, to stand guard.”

“Good idea,” Farkas said. “I’m going with Lena.”

“Of course,” Vilkas nodded. “I’ll stay. And I think Delphine should go with you. Of all of us, she knows more about the history of the place, where things might be hidden,” he raised his eyebrows. “Make sense?”

“It does,” Delphine said, smiling. “Not going to lie, I’d be disappointed if I had to stay back.”

Ria and Njada were fine with guard duty, so Farkas, Lena, and Delphine collected the staffs and walked to the archway just past the garden. Iron bars crossed the entrance.

Lena nodded toward a plaque next to the door. “That’s an alteration sigil. Bet I have to…” she thought for a second, and threw a ball of magelight. She grinned. The bars retreated, and they entered the maze.

 

* * *

 

  
Lena shot flames at the destruction sigil to open the third gate. She groaned. The excitement of the maze was wearing thin. There’d only been a few obstacles – the sigils themselves, easily manipulated by spells or the staffs they’d picked up at the entrance. And the hostiles they’d encountered – skeever, ice wraiths, and a skeleton or two – could be dispatched by the greenest newblood. Delphine had diligently opened all the shutters, but aside from gems and a couple of spellbooks, there was nothing of value hidden inside. And no Elder Scroll. They hated to admit it, but Shalidor’s Maze was _boring_.

“So, Ulfric’s dossier…” Lena said, resorting to small talk to pass the time. “That could have been…explosive.”

“Yeah.” Delphine shrugged as they turned a corner. “I have no idea if the fallout’s going to go our way, but I could think of nothing else to make him leave. And leave without trying to take you with him,” she said, glancing at Lena. “That _was_ his endgame, you know.”

Farkas grunted, slicing through an ice wraith. “He’d not have left in one piece had he tried.”

Delphine inclined her head. “No, there would have been bloodshed. Death. On our side and his. And let’s _say_ we kill the leader of the Stormcloaks. Does the rebellion die with him? Are we hunted by his supporters for the rest of our lives?” She sighed. “Sometimes I’ve wondered if having him assassinated wouldn’t just solve the problem. Maybe that’s what we should have done.”

“Who he _is_ though…if the stories and what’s in that dossier are true, he never stood a chance. At being…something _else_ , I mean,” Lena shook her head and shot flames at yet another skeever. “I just wonder what he’s going to do once he finds out how much he was manipulated. I mean, would he have gone back to the Legion if he’d known the Imperial City’s fall wasn’t his fault? Everything could have been…different. Funny how one man’s trials can change the course of history.”

“Maybe. There’s a lot of pride there, and a lot of it’s hung up on Talos, so maybe not. My opinion, the whole thing’s ridiculous. Who cares what the Dominion thinks? A decree can’t change what’s in your head or heart. It can’t make a god _not_ a god anymore,” Farkas scoffed. “That’s nothing to kill your fellow man over. And if the Divines care that we can’t visit their shrines anymore without getting arrested or killed, well, maybe _they_ should do something about it.”

Lena looked back at him and smiled, and mouthed “I love you.”

Farkas blew her a kiss, and turned to Delphine. “Do you think he’ll help us after reading the dossier? Do something to calm the Stormcloaks down?”

Delphine opened a shutter and pulled out a bunch of jazbay. “This stuff still looks fresh. _How_ is that possible?” She handed it to Lena and shrugged. “What Ulfric will do is anybody’s guess. Remember, the Blades still want to get everyone together, broker some sort of truce until the Alduin matter is concluded. It’s not as dire now that Paarthurnax has outlined his plan…we thought we’d need combat help-“

“And we still might,” Lena reminded her. “Alduin’s allies, all his resurrected dragons, might still pose a problem.”

Lena walked a few paces, then stopped and turned to Delphine. “I’ve been wanting to say something, and not sure I should. But I’m sorry about…keeping the secret from you. The wolfblood, I mean. I thought we solved the problem when we undid the curse. And then, well, it was –“

“It was Vilkas’s secret to tell, not yours,” she said, and sighed. “I get it. And although it’s a little weird to think I’ve slept with a werewolf,” she rolled her eyes at Farkas’s poorly-concealed chuckle, “I can see his side of things. I think we’ll be fine.”

Lena nodded, and groaned again as they approached a restoration sigil above a trapdoor. “Well, isn’t this new and different. I don’t have a projectile spell for that class. Let’s see the staff,” she said, taking it from Farkas and firing at the sigil. The door opened, and they walked down a spiral staircase into what looked like an ancient Nord barrow.

Farkas perked up. “Think there might be draugr?”

Lena cast magelight, and watched it float down the long, dark hallway, undisturbed. They followed it. After a minute or two, a large, swirling vortex opened. They raised their weapons and waited, but nothing came out.

“’Be conjured instead,’” Delphine recited, her eyes shifting to Lena.

Lena bit her lip. “Ok, we’ve come this far. Link arms, and let’s get that damned Scroll.”

 

* * *

 

  
Farkas sighed, and wrapped his arms around Lena, his fingers laced across her belly. “I know you’re disappointed. I thought for sure the Scroll would be in that last room, after we’d taken care of the daedra. We should go through Labyrinthian. Maybe Urag was right about Shalidor, but wrong about where it was hidden. It’s just too neat to be a coincidence.”

“And if it’s not there? What then?”

“We go to Cyrodiil and see the monks. Legend has it the Thieves Guild got their hands on one before the Oblivion Crisis. If they can, so can we,” he said, kissing the tip of her ear and smiling as she leaned back and slowly turned around in his arms.

She raised up on her tiptoes. “It was nice of Delphine to give us some time alone. I’m sure she wanted to give me space to cry in private, but…” Lena smiled and pressed a kiss on his mouth, letting her tongue slide against the inside of his lip.

Farkas pulled back, his eyes crinkling and his lips curving into that sexy smile she loved so much. “You… _want_ me.”

Lena blushed. She grabbed his knife belt and pulled him closer.

He tipped her chin with one finger. “How _much_ do you want me?”

His eyes looked like a starry midnight sky. Her blush deepened, and she kissed him again.

“You _do_. You want me,” he sang. “In a crazy old mage’s maze.” He picked her up and twirled her around, looking for a semi-private corner. “Over there, there’s tapestry hanging sideways…” he peered at it as they skipped over. “But it’s fluttering out toward the room. Why would it be…?”

“Look,” Lena said in a breathless voice, and pulled the ancient fabric aside. “This is a passageway. We _have_ to see where it goes.”

Farkas grinned. “And then…?”

“Of course,” she said, bumping his hip with hers and casting magelight into the darkness. It bounced around, illuminating the arched ceiling. Lena flicked her fingers, and the little ball of light bounded forward, lighting the tunnel and hovering at the other side.

Farkas and Lena emerged from the passageway into a large room, dusty with cobwebs and faintly humming with power. The magelight bobbed along, stopping in front of a high, curved wall.

“A word wall!” Lena stared at it. “A new Shout?”

“Only one way to find out,” Farkas said, rocking back on his heels. “You know, I wouldn’t want to be dragonborn. But…the way you look when that power flows into you. I’d like to know how that feels.”

Lena bit her lip and blushed again. “It’s a lot like how you make me feel when we have sex. When I’m right there… _right_ before I go over the edge. But up _here_ ,” she pointed to her heart. “Just…infinite energy.” She raised her eyebrows. “Want to see if you can feel it?”

Farkas looked down and took her hand. “What, stand with you while you touch the wall?”

“I’m not sure if we’ll be standing…” Her smile widened and she led him into the curve of the wall. “Take off your armor,” she said, and started to unbuckle her own.

Farkas complied without a word, and soon they were both in their leathers.

“I wish we could take it all off,” Lena said, but…”

“Yeah,” Farkas agreed, his mouth hovering over hers. “This place…anything could still be here.” He kissed her nose. “Secret passageways lousy with trolls…”

“Draugr popping out of trapdoors,” Lena mused, untying the laces of his leggings and pulling them open. “It’s a shame. Your chest is one of my favorite things in this world.”

He shivered as her fingers played inside his waistband. “I know the feeling,” Farkas rumbled, returning the favor and only getting the laces stuck once. He cursed as he untangled them, pushing the leather down around her hips.

“You’re so bad at that,” she said, laughing against his neck. “I’m lucky you’re good at other things.”

He nipped at her lips, one hand disappearing inside her leggings, stroking her until she gasped, her blood rushing downward. He pushed his middle finger inside, slowly moving his hand back and forth. “Mmm…you really _do_ want me,” he said, sliding his hands to her rear, and pulling her against his hips.

He smirked as his fingers played along the cleft between her cheeks, feeling her writhe against him. “ _Pleasure_ _me_ , _woman_ ,” he whispered, feathering her jaw and neck with kisses.

Lena grinned and slowly knelt, looking up at him, her eyes sparkling in the light. “As you wish.”

She found him with her fingers and pulled his leggings apart a little more, freeing him completely. She leaned forward, and licked the length of him before covering the tip, her tongue swirling around him as he buried his hands in her hair. He gently moved inside her mouth, and moaned as her sigh became a hum, sending vibrations through his body. It was his turn to writhe into her kisses as her fingers roamed from his buttocks to the small of his back.

Farkas whimpered as she pulled away. “Seems like you want _me_ too,” she said. She felt his body shudder as, inch by inch, she took him, almost his entire length, into her mouth.

“ _Gods_ …Lena, I…” Her lips and tongue and the vibration of her moans were intoxicating. She needed to stop, _but_ … he exhaled heavily and tightened his hands in her hair, reluctantly pulling her back. He lifted her up and crushed her against his chest. “You almost made me lose it, you know,” he said, grinning.

“That’s what you get for calling me ‘ _woman_ ,’” Lena said. She stood on the steel toes of his boots to straddle his erection, sliding back and forth, watching his eyes darken. Her pulse raced.

He slid his hands down her back and cupped her rear, lifting her up. “You _are_ my woman.”

She wrapped her arms and legs around him. “ _Show_ _me_ ,” she snarled, and Farkas saw the faintest glimmer of fire light her green eyes. 

So that was how she wanted it. He could oblige. He pushed her against the wall, sheathing himself in one smooth stroke as one hand cradled her head. The other played between her legs, his thumb circling just above where their bodies joined. “And I am _your_ _man_ ,” he purred, and buried his face in her neck.

Lena closed her eyes and gripped Farkas’s back as he thrust into her, as savage as he’d ever been. She smiled. Maybe they had a little bit of the beast left in them after all, she thought.

Farkas felt her shudder, and raised his head. Watching her.

She gasped, and slammed her hands against the wall, palms down.

She cried out her release, and Farkas stared as fiery mist rose from the wall to swirl around them. He fought for breath as she rode him faster and faster. Her heart raced and thudded. He felt her temperature rise as the mist coalesced around her. Between their bodies. And sank into her skin.

Hot tears burned his eyes as power he was never meant to feel rocked them both. It pushed him closer to the edge. Closer…and over. His climax overtook him like a waterfall thundering into a gorge, and he let his head fall back, reveling in that power.

Lena pulled him back up, her lips crashing into his. Again, and again. She moaned against him once more, then stilled as the power finally quieted, finding its home in her blood.

Farkas took a breath, and his knees buckled. He caught her as they fell, tumbling onto the floor, laughing and gasping for air. His chest heaved as he recovered.

Lena turned to him and smiled, her head resting on his bicep. “So…did you feel it?”

He smoothed her hair back from her face and kissed her forehead. “You are a _goddess_ ,” he said, and then smirked. “ _Woman_.”

She grinned and stretched, looking up at the ball of magelight, still dancing away close to the center of the word wall. She narrowed her eyes. “Hey,” she said, wiggling out of his arms and standing up, stumbling a bit.

The magelight stilled as she laced up her leggings and studied the stones.

Farkas stood up behind her. “What? What do you see?”

She touched the wall, and the magelight hovered close to her hand, illuminating a pattern of hourglasses etched around the edges of one square stone. “I saw it when I stretched. The light shone in just the right place. What are the chances that one square is bordered with Shalidor’s symbol and it means _nothing_?”

Farkas shrugged. “Like I said, it’s too neat to be coincidence.” He took a knife out of the belt strapped to his armor and tried to wedge it between the stones. It didn’t fit.

Lena tried the same thing with an arrow. She huffed and turned around, kicking one of the lower stones with the heel of her boot. “There _has_ to be a way,” she said, frowning at Farkas as he moved in closer to the stones, touching one with his finger. “What?”

He tapped the right side of the stone. “This symbol…it’s different. Like a tree, or something.”

Lena’s eyes widened as she saw where he pointed. “It’s an alteration sigil. But…” She thought for a minute. “I’m not sure if I’m strong enough. I learned that spell a few years ago, but it’s a tough one…”

“What spell?”

“Telekinesis. Maybe I have to get the stone out using telekinesis,” she said, shaking her head. “Shalidor was a clever old bastard. No one would guess his hidey-hole was outside the maze and incorporated into a secret word wall.” She stepped back and rubbed her hands together. “Here goes nothing.”

She cast the spell, and the stone began to wobble, but stuck fast. “ _Ugh_ , that’s a magicka drain,” she said, running over to her backpack and grabbing a potion. “This should do it. Triples my magicka. If I can’t move that stone now,” she said, knocking it back, “I never will.”

Farkas felt a glimmer of hope as she stood back and cast the spell again, her face red with exertion. This time, the stone flew out of the wall, shattering as it crashed to the floor.

Lena cast her magelight, and they waved the dust away and peered into the hollow. Farkas took Lena’s hand, and they both grinned.


	33. Three In One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter combines the thoughts of Farkas, Lena, and for the first time, Paarthurnax. Is the dragon ally everything he seems to be? A rare look inside the thoughts of an immortal soul in the body of a beast who has waited for millennia, alone, on top of a snowy mountain.
> 
> *please note, the tags for this story include deviation from canon. The lore isn't going to be the same. Honestly, a college course could be offered on Elder Scrolls lore. And I would take it. But for this story, I wanted to do something a little different.

* * *

** FARKAS **

When you’re hanging onto a dragon’s spikes and flying against the wind, higher than mountains whose clouded tops you can’t even see from the ground, certain thoughts tend to sneak into your mind. “Fuckfuckfuck” was pretty much first in mine. “Oh gods, oh gods, we’re all going to die” was the second.

I heard Lena laugh, and part of me unclenched. A very small part, because we’re still climbing, and it’ll only take one angry gust to knock us off this dragon’s back. Of course _she’s_ enjoying this – her dragon blood probably wanted the freedom of flight all along. Me, though – I’m happy on the ground. But Lena thought and Paarthurnax agreed, and even I had to admit it was for the best: the Elder Scroll didn’t need to travel overland. So, Paarthurnax picked us up outside Labyrinthian. First time he’d been off that mountain in a century, he said. So, here we are: me trying not to throw up, and Lena trying not to forget that yes, she’s still a human. Without wings. And…we’re carrying a fragment of creation on the back of an ancient dragon.

But, at least we found the thing, after all. Vilkas and the rest headed back to Jorrvaskr, and we’ll meet up once the Scroll is safely hidden away on the Throat of the World. What we’ll do until it’s time to read it, well...

After Paarthurnax used his boulder trick to put the idea of fighting Alduin out of Lena’s mind, he told us a little about his plan. Part of it seems hazy to me now. I guess that’s what comes of talking to a dragon, and of course he didn’t tell us enough. Cryptic bastard. But this I remember.

“ _But if Akatosh created Alduin, and Alduin is threatening his creation, why doesn’t Akatosh step in? Like he did in the Oblivion Crisis?” Farkas thought that was a fair question. After all, if the gods had the power to fix the problem…_

_“He stopped Mehrunes Dagon – a daedra. Alduin is part of creation, and part of Akatosh himself. If you and Dovahkiin had a child, would you be so eager to kill it? Or to send it from the world?” He rumbled in his throat, and looked between Lena and Farkas. “No, I thought not. Keep in mind – everything you know about this world was written by men or mer. Sometimes wise, yes…but still mortal. Short lived and ruled by passion. How can a mortal truly understand the Divines? Maybe lore is right, and this world, this kalpa, is due to end soon. Perhaps Alduin is fulfilling Akatosh’s wish. Keeping men and mer from being powerful enough to overtake the gods. Would you still fight, Dovahkiin, if it were against the will of the gods?”_

_Farkas and Lena tipped their heads back and laughed. “What?” Lena said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Our magic **comes** from them, any power we claim to possess. With what, exactly, are we supposed to defeat them? Maces and flame spells? That…that can’t be true. Why not just take our magic if they fear us getting out of hand?”_

_Paarthurnax nodded. “Yes. Even I don’t know the inner mind of Akatosh, and I am in his confidence. Perhaps…perhaps a prior world, if such worlds did indeed exist, revolted. And your power has been curtailed as a result. Just now, I can assure you, Akatosh does not desire this world to end. But…a creator may not harm his own creation. Even before the Divines, there are rules. We are his,” Paarthurnax inclined his head, his eyes closed, “his champions in this matter.”_

Having Akatosh on our side made things seem a little lighter, a little brighter. But I couldn’t get past the thought that he, the most powerful being I could comprehend, trusted the fate of the world to a human and an ancient, withered dragon. It just didn’t seem right, and I remember this part, too.

“ _Lena will try to sacrifice herself for the world. For **you**. What are you going to do about it?”_

_I glanced at Lena, willing her to deny it. She stared over Paarthurnax’s shoulder at the tip of the mountain._

_“I don’t see how she’ll manage that,” Farkas said, pressing his nails into Lena’s hand. Still no reaction. Magic? He wasn’t sure, but if this old dragon thought anything would make him leave his wife at any point in the foreseeable future, he was insane. “I’m not leaving her. I’ll fight with her, if there’s a fight. Which you said-“_

_“Fighting comes in many forms. Lena will not fight Alduin with physical might or offensive magic. But that’s not to say that she won’t wage her own battle. And that she won’t give her life to protect you. She is not doom driven, or a slave to prophecy. **Love** drives her.”_

And I suppose that’s true, for the both of us. Why in Oblivion would I be flying on a dragon otherwise? I’m not sure I expect Lena or myself to make it out alive – just seems too neat and tidy. We’re up against a dragon with, if stories are true, the power to end the world. This isn’t a barrow crawl or a bandit nest. Whatever she has to do, even if it’s not a fight, it’s bound to be deadly. And I’ll be right there at her side.

* * *

 

** LENA **

Flying would be better if I had wings – the spine digging into my butt and the fact that I have to hold on tempers my joy a bit. Soaring through the air like Paarthurnax is doing – feeling weightless, seeing the world as few humans have – that would be an experience. Farkas is _not_ enjoying this flight, and for that reason, I hope we won’t have to repeat it. But even he has to admit the speed alone is worth any discomfort. Especially for what we’re transporting.

I can’t believe we’re carrying an Elder Scroll. A piece of creation, maybe even older than the Divines. That’s another thing about flying. When you’re on the ground, the size of the world is incomprehensible. Even now, we’re only seeing Skyrim. A small part of Skyrim.

I can feel power surrounding this scroll. I thought _I_ was powerful. And Paarthurnax. And Alduin, but beside this…this small roll of parchment? We’re pebbles in a river. Nothing but dust. The entire world…and it’s in our feeble hands.

After we get back to Jorrvaskr, I have to start training harder with my magic. I don’t have to fight Alduin, but what I _have_ to do is tricky and complicated. It requires perfect timing, and I’ll have to protect myself. And protect Farkas, who will never leave my side, no matter what I do to convince him he should. And I don’t blame him. If I were in his boots… well, he’d have to knock me out to get me to stay behind.

After Paarthurnax nearly killed me with a flick of his claw last week, part of what he told us sticks in my mind.

“ _I look at you two, and I see why Akatosh wants this world to survive. Love, trust, respect…freedom. Husband and wife deciding to move together, as one. To lay down your life for the other, if need be. Yes?” Paarthurnax looked between us. “I know you’ve each thought about it. I see it. A connection that is…rare…among the dovah.”_

_Lena and Farkas stood straighter, hand in hand. “Is this a bad thing?”_

_Paarthurnax rested his head on the crushed boulder. “It can be. Choices, even if made in the spirit of love and respect, may still be wrong. Sacrifice can cause great suffering. Resentment. Brotherly love, especially between two so close, is another strong bond. Sacrifice between brothers…between husband and wife…” He huffed. “Parent and child…all understandable. Sometimes necessary, sometimes avoidable. Sometimes tragic.”_

_I squeezed Farkas’s hand, and shaded my eyes to look up at him. He was staring at Paarthurnax. Staring through him. Like he didn’t see him. I snapped my fingers._

_“It’s fine. He’s not hearing this,” Paarthurnax said, noticing my disquiet. “He’s not meant to. He will try to sacrifice himself for you. For his brother. Brotherly love is all about sacrifice – I know. And he and his brother are twins. That’s an intense bond.”_

_Lena stood, suddenly shivering in the snow. The twins had been through so much together. So had she and Farkas. She’d wondered about his new-found strength and focus, the way he looked at her. Like he was filling up his mind with memories for some future where she didn’t exist. She’d always thought it was because he feared her death, but…_

_She looked sharply at Paarthurnax. He rumbled. “You see, Dovahkiin. This is how it will be. Do with that knowledge as you will.”_

I don’t know whether Paarthurnax wanted me to keep Farkas away, keep him safe, or not. But, I don’t think I can. What if I do? Let's say I use a potion to knock him out. Or collaborate with Vilkas to keep him at Jorrvaskr while I fight. And die. Without him.

He’ll be alive, yes, and safe. But, could he live with it? What would _he_ want? It’s hard to know, unless I know him. And I do. _Oh, I do._

* * *

 

** PAARTHURNAX **

I am flying with two humans on my back, clinging to my spines. Probably losing the contents of their stomachs all over this…desolate land. I have an Elder Scroll in my possession, one I am not allowed to read – it is for the fragile humans on my back, my father says. One of the humans, anyway – the Dovahkiin. The one my father has set up to be the hero of this age: the conqueror of Alduin, my brother. _Zeymah. Fadon_. More a father to me than…

 _I_ have been the one standing guard on that mountain, yet _she_ … How has it come to this?

As old and learned as I am, as much as I have done for him…there are things my father refuses to divulge. Is this world doomed to end? Did Akatosh create Alduin with such a heavy purpose - to keep creation weaker than their creators? If that’s so, what would become of me and my brethren? We are not Daedra. We are not Divines. Would we become nothing but stardust into which the new world is born?

Would it… _hurt_?

What of these mortals I’ve come to…appreciate…in my time? Are they inconsequential as well, not to be trusted? To be cast into the universe like garbage?

And what of _my_ purpose? To sit on top of that mountain and moulder? My wings becoming tattered and rotten? Even now, it’s difficult to stay in the air. All my focus…

All this knowledge, my father will not reveal. I admit to frustration. _Rahgol_. The pinnacle of knowledge sits in my grasp, and I am… _tempted_. The Scroll could illumine what my father cannot. _Will_ not. Mortals require years of study to comprehend the Scroll. Surely I, with my years, and magic, beyond anything…

_Surely, I…_

A spark of rage ignites in my belly, and I bank against the wind, feeling the Dovahkiin fight for her bearings, along with her mate. What if I tipped my wings? What would my father do? Would he step in at last, before his hero made a mess all over his precious mountain? Or, would he allow Alduin to burn this world as a consequence of my reckless anger?

I breathe deeply. And try, as I have for thousands of years, to stay calm. To trust. To wait, and have patience.

And I try.

A fight against one’s own nature. I didn’t delve into the concept with the Dovahkiin’s mate. But given his years of conflict with the beastblood, it is a battle he knows too well. _As do I._ I have been fighting for thousands of years, and it is nearly impossible to carry on. But I am as my father made me, after all.

_Unahzaal. Krosis._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zeymah: brother  
> Fadon: friend  
> Rahgol: rage  
> Unahzaal: eternal/unending  
> Krosis: sorrow


	34. Walk In Our Paws

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Farkas and Lena are waiting on Paarthurnax, old friends need their help, so off they go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters so far. My original plan was to take on one of the more lighthearted quests in the game. But because of (apparently) who I am as a person, it took a serious turn. Maybe that quest wasn't so lighthearted after all. As always, feedback is welcome, and thank you to everyone reading! 
> 
> Until I opened this work to add the chapter, I had no idea how long it had been since my last update. I blame school being out (I have a 6-year-old), my husband being deployed, and the fact that I'm a little obsessed with my other story. If anyone's a fan of Vilkas-centered romance and 'fall into Skyrim' stories, check it out and let me know what you think. :)

Farkas blinked and opened his eyes, throwing one arm over his face to block out the bright...sunlight? Where in Oblivion…? Then he smiled, remembering what they’d done yesterday, and why his arms felt so sore. He and Lena had finally moved into Breezehome.

He took a deep breath, looking down at Lena and chuckling. Her rosemary-scented hair covered his chest as she slept with her head resting on his stomach, her knees tucked up under his legs. He felt like her life-size teddy bear, which was fine by him. He could do with a few weeks of nothing but snuggling and rest and fun after the winter they’d had.

Two weeks had passed since they’d retrieved the Elder Scroll, and Paarthurnax wasn’t in a rush to put their plan into action. His latest (grouchy) reply to Lena’s anxious mental badgering made it clear: they shouldn’t expect to hear from him for awhile. Rest up, get strong, and live your lives, he’d snapped, his zen-dragon façade slipping a bit. The unspoken ‘while you can’ hung in the air like frosty breath.

If Lena was going to sleep in, he could go downstairs and get coffee and start unpacking. How they’d accumulated that many crates of stuff was beyond him. But she moaned a little and stretched, hugging him tighter. Farkas brushed the hair back from her face, wondering if she was waking up or settling deeper into sleep. If he could just slip –

His eyes widened as she sighed and lowered her head – quite a bit lower – and swept the linens down around his hips.

Coffee be damned, he thought, crossing his arms behind his head and settling in to enjoy what promised to be a very good morning.  


* * *

 

  
The old dragon told them to live their lives, and so they were. In the past two weeks, they’d worked contracts just like all the ‘normal’ Companions, rescuing a kidnapped bard from Falkreath and returning a pilfered family heirloom to Amren, a retired soldier who lived up the hill from Breezehome. They bought a home, and had dinners with friends; they’d even accompanied Vilkas to Riverwood.

But mainly, they’d enjoyed each other, spending long days in bed or in the baths, when they weren’t working. Or out on the plains beyond the gates, soaking in the Spring’s warmth.

And now, on what should have been their first full day in their first new home together, Lena and Farkas were on the way to Markarth, pushing their stout horses to a punishing pace up the mountain road. But time was of the essence. Skjor was missing.

Kodlak had rushed out to the training yard with an exhausted courier and a scribbled message from Aela: ‘Skjor’s missing. Please, I need help. Silver-Blood Inn.’ Nothing else needed saying. Lena, the twins, and Ria headed out immediately.

By the time they reached Markarth’s brazen gates, the moons had crested the sky, and Aela was nowhere to be found. Lena slept by Farkas’s side for what seemed like only a few hours before a rough shake to her shoulder had her blinking in the candlelight. Aela backed away, her gray eyes wide and shadowed, her red hair in a tangled knot atop her head.

Lena sat up in her strangely-comfortable stone bed. “How did you know we were… You smelled us, didn’t you?”

“Yeah. Your scents aren’t so different now. Not wolfy, but still you.”

“Do you have any leads? Any information? Your note…”

“I know, I was a mess when I wrote it,” Aela said, picking up the candlestick from the stone table next to their bed. “Let me wake everyone else, and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“What time is it?” Lena stretched and yawned. “It feels early.”

Aela opened the door to the room where Vilkas and Ria slept. “It’s just after dawn. Sorry, but…”

Lena nodded and nudged Farkas. “I know. I’d do the same.”

 

* * *

 

“Wait, Skjor got into a drinking contest with some hunter? That doesn’t sound like Skjor at all. He’s usually so serious,” Lena said, pouring coffee from a stoneware carafe. She handed a cup to Aela and took one for herself, holding the cup in both hands for warmth. Their room at the Silver-Blood Inn was comfortable and private, but chilly.

“Thanks. I know,” Aela said, sipping from her mug. “I thought the same thing. But this man, he was…charming. And I don’t mean handsome or flirty. He wasn’t after that. It was more like we’d known him for years. Like a long-lost friend. He and Skjor started drinking these little glasses full of a sort of coral-colored liquid. The hunter – his name was Sam – he called it his own special brew.”

“This man brought his own drinks to a bar? Weird.”

“Again, yeah. I thought so too. Anyway, I was tired. We were supposed to leave early the next morning for Solstheim,” Aela said, looking warily at Ria. “Wolf business.”

Ria looked from Aela to Lena and back. “It's fine. That’s your business; I’m just here to help.”

Aela nodded. “When I woke up and Skjor wasn’t there, I didn’t think anything of it. But he wasn’t in the common room, and he wasn’t at the smithy. No one had seen him leave.”

Vilkas shook his head as he paced around the room. “But you found _us_. You smelled us, even though we’re not wolves anymore. Skjor’s your mate. Why can’t you follow his scent?”

“I can’t sense him, Vilkas. There’s nothing. No bond. No scent. There’s only one reason for that,” she said, pushing down on the stone bench with both palms, her fingernails gripping the sculpted edges. Her eyes filled with tears. “If my mate’s dead…that’s why I called for you. I can enlist hunters, we’d find him eventually. But if he’s dead…dammit, I want my friends with me. My family.”

Farkas and Lena clasped hands. They’d been mated too, and the very idea of losing each other was heartbreaking. “There’s no other place we’d rather be right now,” Farkas said, his voice husky. “Ok, where do you want to start?”

Aela swiped at her eyes and set her mug down. “There was another man in the common room. Tall, blond, scarred face. Maybe a guard. He was there late into the night, the bartender said. But no one can find him. We need to find him. And let me give you a description of this asshole, Sam. Then, we start knocking on doors.”

 

* * *

 

  
“I’ve been all over the city, and the stables. I even asked people at that mine outside the walls. No one’s seen a handsome, auburn-haired hunter with a bearskin cloak and a red bow. And that would stand out, you’d think,” Ria told Lena as they met in front of Understone Keep. She had a small book with her, and had made notations of everywhere she’d been, and everyone she’d talked to. Lena was impressed. “There _was_ one person at the mine who thinks she remembers Skjor, though. But alone, and leaving the city. So, we’ll see what Aela thinks and then...”

Lena nodded. “I badgered everyone in the Keep. There’s someone who fits the description of the guard she mentioned – name’s Argis. Might be a lead, but he’s off on some sort of mission for the jarl. He’ll be back soon, though. Let’s go back to the inn. I’m starved,” she said, shading her eyes in the midday sun.

Ria started down the stone stairs, scribbling in her notebook. “Yeah. Maybe the rest of them have more leads. They did go around the tougher parts of the city, so –“

Ria’s words broke off abruptly as she ran into someone. A tall, blond, armored someone. She looked up, losing her balance on the edge of the steps, and her black eyes grew round.

He was a great wall of a man, his imposing presence softened by a good-natured smile and a twinkle in his eyes. Or eye, Ria noted. A dark red tattoo ran from one golden-brown eye down to his neck and under his armor. His left eye was milky white, and in the path of a wicked scar.

“Pardon me,” he said, looking down at Ria, steadying her with one arm on her elbow.

“No,” Ria said, holding up her notebook. “Um, that was me. My…wasn’t looking.” She peered up at him, the dazed look on her face sharpening as she glanced back at Lena. “Wait, are you Argis?”

His smile faltered. “You’ve been looking for me?”

Lena let out a huff of relief. “Can you come with us? To the inn? A friend of ours is missing, and we were told you might be able to help us.”

Argis shook his head. “Not that I don’t want to help, but I don’t see how I can. I’m not an investigator. Just a guard.”

Ria cleared her throat. “No, the bartender at the inn said you were there the night he went missing. We haven’t been able to find a trace, so we were hoping…maybe you could join us for lunch? While we fill you in?”

Argis looked from Lena to Ria, noting their distress, and nodded. “I suppose I might as well eat before I check in with the jarl,” he said, turning around and leading them back to the inn.

Ria looked at Lena, her eyes wide. “Wow,” she mouthed, motioning to Argis’s retreating figure.

Lena nodded, grinning.

 

* * *

 

 

“Are you a city guard? A Reach guard?” Farkas passed a basket of bread across the table to Argis.

“No, different payroll. I’m a palace guard,” he said, taking a roll and passing the basket to Ria with a grin. “Most of the time I’m there, at the keep. But the jarl sends me out, too. Just got back from Falkreath, in fact.”

Aela picked at her lunch. Lena didn’t blame her. They’d not found anything, any evidence in town either. Not around Cidhna Mine or the warrens, which Lena counted in the ‘no news is good news’ category. So far, Ria’s miner having seen him leave town was all they had to go on. But where did he go? Skyrim was a big place.

Lena watched Argis, whose eyes rested on Aela, taking in her obvious misery.

“I was here that night, and I remember your friend,” he said to Aela. “Tall, shaved head, eye a bit like mine? Yeah. He and some hunter drank way too much, and the bartender tried to escort them outside.”

“Did they go?” Vilkas asked, reaching for a slice of apple pie.

Argis laughed. “No, and this I remember because...the bartender went from screaming at them to joining them in a matter of seconds. More drinks kept coming, though I never saw from where.”

“What were you doing here, if I may ask?” Lena wasn’t trying to be rude, but they had to cover all their bases.

“Business,” Argis said, leaning back in his chair. “Can’t elaborate further, I’m afraid. But I left shortly thereafter. Last thing I saw as I went out the door, they were singing together, standing on the fireplace.”

Aela’s shoulders slumped. “So that’s the last you saw of him? Of Skjor?”

“No.” Argis shook his head, his gaze softening as Aela looked up, her eyes barely alight with hope. “I was out later, much later in the city. And I saw them come up the street, not sure from where, but they walked up the stairs to the Temple of Dibella. I recognized that red bow. That was maybe five hours after I’d left the inn.”

“Shit,” Vilkas said, slamming his fist on the table. “I didn’t think to check the temple. Did anyone else?”

Everyone shook their heads. “I can’t believe we overlooked that,” Aela said, the hope in her eyes flaring a bit as she stood up. “Lena? Come with me. They might open up more to women,” she said, rolling her eyes at Vilkas’s mock disappointment.

Ria shook her head almost imperceptibly when Lena turned to see if she wanted to join them. When she cut her eyes toward Argis with a slight smile, Lena grinned at her smitten shield-sister and followed Aela out the door.

 

* * *

 

 

Turned out, the priestesses had a lot to say, and not all of it bad. Senna and Orla poured them steaming cups of tea as they described Skjor and Sam’s late night visit.

“Sam came back with us, but your friend,” Senna smiled and imitated Skjor’s drunk but still gruff demeanor. “’Back off, lady, I have a mate.’ Is that one of you? Is one of you his wife?”

“I’m his mate,” Aela corrected, sipping her tea.

“Whatever works, child.” Orla looked Aela over, noting her disheveled appearance and haunted eyes. “He is devoted to you, whatever you call it. But, while we were with Sam, we heard a disturbance out here. Crashes, yelling. I came out to find your mate convulsing on the ground. There’d been a struggle, but no one else was here. He’d thrown pots to the ground, knocked over statuary.”

Lena clasped Aela’s white-knuckled hand. “Did he get up eventually? Was he ok?”

“He did get up. But ok? I do not know. He was raving about hunting. About something being gone. Finding a wolf?” Orla looked between the two women. “Does that make any sense to you? Anyway, he grabbed his things and left. We never saw him again.”

Aela stood up and set her tea on a table. “Thank you. It does make a little sense,” she said, walking to the door. “Did he or this Sam say anything else? About where they’d been, where they were going to go?”

“Just drunk talk.” Senna darted a glance at Orla, suppressing a grin. “Sam said they’d been to Solitude and mooned the queen. And played a prank on a Vigilant of Stendarr here in town, locked him inside an old building.”

“But,” Orla chimed in, “Sam said something later about going to Rorikstead. Maybe that’s where Skjor went.”

Lena nodded at the priestesses, and left a coin purse on the table near the teapot. “For Dibella, and for your help. And for Skjor.”

She closed the temple’s doors behind her and found Aela sitting on the top step, staring out at the mountains behind the city. “When I couldn’t find him yesterday, and reached for the bond and felt…nothing, I fell apart. My room at the inn probably looked a bit like the temple did after whatever happened to Skjor inside,” she said, tilting her head back toward the bronze door. “I was sick for the rest of the day. Last night, I turned in the woods and ran, hunting for any trace, but I’ve never felt so helpless. How am I supposed to – “

Tears choked her words, and she hid her face in her arms. Lena was unsure what to do. When they first met, Aela’d been sure Lena was a spy and a traitor, and that accusation, while understandable, rankled for longer than Lena’d let on.

And then the dragons. And the blood. And the mating bond, and the realization they had more in common than they thought possible. By the time Aela’d left with Skjor, Lena felt like a part of her heart was leaving, too.

She sat beside the grieving woman and threw her arms around her. Aela stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed and let her tears fall, hot and fierce, on Lena’s shoulder.  


* * *

 

 

“Where are the twins?” Lena stormed in and started stuffing their things into bags.

Ria reluctantly turned away from Argis. He’d been listening to the story of the time she’d killed a bear. Really listening. No one else ever listened to that story. “They went to the smithy. Farkas broke a buckle on his greaves, and Vilkas needed his daggers sharpened,” she said. “They should be back any minute. Find out anything?”

Aela grabbed a leftover roll from the table, suddenly famished. “We’re going to Rorikstead, apparently. The priestess said they’d mentioned plans to go, and that, combined with your lead…maybe. It’s thin, but it’s all we have to go on.”

Ria nodded. “I’ll go get packed.”

 

* * *

 

“So,” Argis said to Ria, as they walked into the inn’s common room. “I have business in Whiterun every so often. Could I look you up?”

“I’m easy to find,” Ria said, nodding and grinning like an idiot. “Just look for the big, overturned ship…”

“Overturned ship…” Argis’s eyes lit up. “You’re a Companion! I’m surprised that never came up; with all that talk of killing bears, I figured you lot were hunters. You know, I wanted to be one of you when I was a kid. Joined the Legion instead. Maybe I made the wrong choice,” he said, smiling at Ria’s faint blush.

Lena and Farkas joined them, and Argis narrowed his eyes. A spark of a memory flared to life. “Now that you mention it,” he said, lowering his voice, “I heard a rumor not too long ago that a dragonborn’s been called. And that dragonborn keeps company almost as legendary as she is.”

“Well, that would be quite a scoop for us, if true,” Farkas said, huffing. “Where did you hear that nonsense?”

“The jarl sent me to Windhelm not too long ago.”

“Hm,” Farkas grunted, clasping Argis’s wrist in farewell.

Argis nodded, smiling at Ria as she tripped a little on her way out the door.

“Excuse me,” Lena said, bumping into a man coming into the inn as she walked out, closing the door behind her.

 

* * *

 

 

They’d just gotten to the stables when Lena realized her dagger was missing. “Here,” she said to Farkas, handing him her backpack. “I’ll be right back.”

She sprinted back through the gates, into the inn, and back to her room, but the dagger wasn’t there. “Damn,” she said. Where could she have dropped it? She turned to leave, and backed up a step.

A man was in the doorway, watching her, a smile on his handsome face.

“Can I help you?” Lena side-stepped around the table. She wasn’t threatened, but wasn’t about to show her back to a stranger.

He reached inside his blue mage’s robes, and pulled out her dagger, his motion disturbing the red satchel tied at his hip. At Lena’s look of angry recognition, he tsk’d and presented the blade on open palms. “That would have been a good _score_ ,” he said, a trickster's smile playing across his lips.

Lena stalked over and grabbed the hilt. “You’re not much of a thief, giving it back.”

“I _scorn_ thieving,” he said, sauntering around the table to stand in front of the fireplace. “Unless it can shake things up a little. Make your lives richer through its machinations.”

“Well, that sounds great. Completely blibbering and all, but…” She turned to walk out, relieved that he’d moved from the door.

“You with the big, hairy fellows out there? The ones in the _skorts_?”

Something about the way he said that last word made her turn around, her eyes narrowed. His smirk was unsettling. “They’re not – “ her eyes widened as the man shimmered before her eyes. Into a handsome, auburn-haired hunter with a red bow slung on his back.

“You’re slower than your friend,” he said, wagging his finger and shaking his head.

“You. Where’s Skjor?”

“Finally. I’ve been a naughty boy, it seems. My brother is angry. He has a prior claim, you see. It was all in good fun – the hunter becomes the hunted, tale as old as time. But my…family, well, we don’t share the same sense of humor. Especially,” he favored Lena with raised brows and another unsettling smirk, “when we’ve been denied our rightful prey not so long ago.”

“I don’t know who you are or what you’re talking about, but Skjor better – “

“So. Dense,” he said, sitting on the fireplace. “Skjor knew me as Sam Guevenne, and right now, he’s paying for that knowledge.”

“He’s alive?”

“Mortals. So quick on the uptake. Is that all you’re concerned about? Do the mysteries of – “

“No, they don’t. I’m only here for my friend. I don’t care about mysteries; I’ve seen enough to last me, thanks.” Lena took a step toward Sam. “Where is he?” She took another step, and he shimmered again, and disappeared.

“I saw you come in and not leave. Is everything ok?”

Lena whirled around to see Argis standing in the door. “Yes,” she said, startled, her heart beating faster. “Just getting my dagger.” She patted her knife belt and walked to the door. “You know, you _should_ come to Whiterun. I heard you talking to Ria,” she explained. “We could use someone like you. And we don’t go to Windhelm often.”

Argis grinned. “That is a point in your favor,” he said. “One among many.”

“Oh, and Argis? You might want to check any abandoned buildings in town. I’ve been told someone might be locked inside one of them. Can’t elaborate further, I’m afraid,” she said, smirking as she walked outside.

 

* * *

 

 

Skjor slashed upward with his dagger, slitting the White Stag’s throat and narrowly avoiding the resulting blood spray. It didn’t matter – his clothes were soaked anyway, he mused, staring at the remains of Hircine’s hunters scattered in the glen.

“Why do you avoid something you worked so hard to attain?” Hircine himself sauntered out from the shadows, his boots as blood-soaked as Skjor’s. “Why not bathe in it?”

Skjor stumbled as he stood, his body shaking. “Why?”

The empty eyes in the stag’s skull glowed blue. “That’s what I asked you, errant hunter.”

“No.” Skjor shook his dagger, spattering the grass with bloody arcs. “Why? _Why_ would you do this? Why take my wolf and – gods, my mate? Why?”

“Another prince crooks his little finger and off you run to do his bidding? No, child, that is not loyalty. For that, you were tested.”

“Loyalty? When have I not been loyal? I left my friends,” he yelled, pacing in the dappled sunlight. “My family. My wolf and my mate were all I had left. Why take them, too? What more do you want?”

“What do I want? I want everything, mortal,” he snarled, stabbing the soft earth with his spear. “Who do you think I am? One of your divines? Watching, listening from afar, and awarding little gifts of favor? The hunt is changeable as the moons, much like a human heart. As you discovered here,” he said, twirling slowly as he motioned to the dead hunters and stag. “You turned against my hunters. That was unexpected.”

Skjor looked at Hircine out of the corner of his eye, warily searching for the next trap. “So where does that leave us?”

“Where? That decision is yours. You are free of the wolf now. You can take that freedom and run with it, if you choose. I will not hunt you down. Or,” he said, lifting his hand, a glowing swirl of silver between his fingers, “here it is. Like an old friend. Let it possess you and you can go back to your mate. Continue to serve me. And the hunt.”

Skjor closed his eyes as he flexed his muscles, rolling his head from shoulder to shoulder. He felt…good. He’d forgotten how it felt to breathe free air without that dependent tug of his wolf, fighting for ascendancy. But there was emptiness, as well. Hircine was right, damn him – the wolf was an old friend, their infernal struggles a part of him now. They challenged him, honing his hunter’s spirit to a keen edge. And he missed Aela. She’d been his heart for years, his comfort. The last two days without her thoughts and her scent had been…wrong. Off-balance.

“I see your turmoil. Either path takes you far away from something you desire. It is a hard choice.”

“I’ve made hard choices. I chose the blood years ago. I chose to take a mate, although refusing that blessing would have been…problematic. I chose to break the hearts of my family. Not for you, but for _him_.” Skjor nodded at the glowing spirit. “And for _her_. And I make that choice again today,” he said, walking toward Hircine, his dagger out by his side.

Hircine lowered his spear, and extended his arm out from his bare chest, the wolf spirit swirling in his hand.

“My choice will be the same, year after year. For him, and for her. To the end of my days.” Skjor stopped in front of Hircine and gazed at the spirit, his eyes wet. He nodded, and Hircine pressed his palm to Skjor’s chest, watching as the spirit settled in the man’s blood. “Perhaps you should reserve future tests for more interesting quarry,” Skjor said, breathing deeply as the familiar weight draped across his own soul.

Hircine grunted. “Perhaps your time with my brother was good for you after all,” he said, twisting his fist and watching as Skjor blanched, the wolf spirit within yelping in pain. “But don’t forget who you are. Whose you are.”

 

* * *

 

 

Aela gasped, her hands covering her ears, her head shaking. She shrieked and twisted in her saddle. Lena slid from her own horse and ran over to Aela’s, holding the reins with one hand, and the back of Aela’s tunic with the other. “Aela,” she said, looking up at the woman in alarm. “What is it? Are you ill?”

Tears poured from Aela’s eyes. She took a deep breath and lowered her arms. “No, I’m…” she looked around. “It’s Skjor. He’s…” she looked down at Lena. “You said he was alive. That strange man…but I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t feel him. He _had_ to be dead, no other explanation. But he’s alive,” she said, smiling through her tears. “And he’s close.”

They’d left Markarth after Lena’d told them of her conversation with the magical Sam Guevenne, and his insistence that Skjor was alive, but in trouble. Rorikstead had been their destination – no clues pointed them elsewhere until now.

“There,” Aela pointed southwest, toward Lake Ilinalta. “He’s there.”

Lena mounted her horse and they were off. It wasn’t long before the forests of Falkreath overtook them, and they left the road, trampling through underbrush and jumping over fallen trees. A hawk screeched, and Aela held her arm out by her side, her fist up. They halted. She tipped her head to the side, listening. Sniffing the breeze.

With a choked cry, she dismounted and ran among the trees, shouting Skjor’s name.

Lena dismounted. “Stay here. I’m going to make sure they’re ok, and then…” She walked silently through the shadows, and a few minutes later, Farkas glimpsed her return. She held a finger to her lips, and nodded back toward the edge of the forest, where they all retreated, leaving the reunited pair to the privacy of the woods.

  


* * *

 

 

The campfire light of Hunter’s Rest shone in Ria’s wide, dark eyes as she listened to Skjor’s tale. She hadn’t known, hadn’t bothered to learn: part of his soul was taken. His spirit taken. No wonder he’d collapsed that night at Dibella’s temple. And Farkas, Lena, Vilkas…they’d had to make a different choice. To rip part of their souls away and kill what had become a part of themselves. Their silence after hearing of Skjor’s ordeal was one of pain, and of remembrance.

Ria swiped at her eyes and smiled. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice sounding shrill amid the crackling fire and chirping crickets. “I know this isn’t about me, but I wanted you all to know. I understand now, as much as I can understand. I was quick to judge. That was a mistake, and I’m sorry for how I treated you all. I didn’t know, and now I do.”

They all nodded and smiled their thanks, and Ria felt a heavy weight fall from her gut.

Aela rested her head on her knees, curled up next to Skjor. “Hircine said you’d been disloyal. And that you’d spent time with his brother. That could only be another lord. Another daedric lord. Who – “

They were silent for a moment, trying to remember a book they’d read or a story Vignar’d told them. Something to shed light on the strange events of the day. Vilkas snapped his fingers. “Sam Guevenne, you said, Lena?” He looked at them all. “Drinking. Dibella’s temple. SamGuevenne,” he said, the names running together. They all groaned.

Skjor cursed. “Yeah, the temple.” He looked down at Aela. “Did…did you talk to the priestesses? I don’t remember much –“

She silenced him with a kiss. “They were impressed with you. Apparently you told a Priestess of Dibella to back off. That you already had a mate,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder. “You impressed me, too. You always do.”

 

* * *

 

 

Lena woke with a start, sitting up and squinting at the sunshine glaring through their bedroom window. Breezehome, she remembered. They were in Breezehome. She lay on her back and wondered when the sun would stop being an oddity first thing in the morning. When waking up at home would feel…ordinary. She rolled her head on her pillow and gazed at Farkas, lightly snoring, his leg hanging off the bed and his arm flung over her hip.

They should get a curtain for that window, she thought, nestling into the comforting warmth of his side, and nodding off once more.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	35. Fire and Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stressful situations sometimes bring out the best in ourselves, but more often highlight our imperfections. Lena and Farkas work through some personal issues, and Ulfric throws a wild curve ball.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone reading, kudosing, bookmarking, subscribing, and commenting. Your support means more than you know. :)

 

Vilkas backed up as he watched Delphine glare at Lena, the setting sun glinting off her sword as she raised it, crouching and ready to lunge. He’d been on the receiving end of that glare once or twice since they’d first met last winter in Kynesgrove, and it never failed to unsettle him and keep him on his toes.

It must have done the same to Lena. He noticed her back up a step or two before she let loose her Shout, and felt the air move around them as she spoke in that strange, echoing language that made his friend sound more like dragon than woman. He’d not gotten used to it yet, and couldn’t imagine he ever would.

Delphine’s chest heaved as her glare intensified. She strained against the Shout, tendons in her neck popping, and her face red with exertion. Just when Vilkas thought she might resist the compulsion to bend to Lena’s will, Delphine yelled and threw her sword a little too close to Kodlak, who yelped in alarm.

Vilkas took a step or two around to Lena’s right, intending to intercept if things got too heated, but there was no need. Delphine pirouetted across the yard, arms arched over her head in a circle. She let out one more frustrated shriek, and then sang, in a surprisingly clear soprano, “ _there once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who came riding to Whiterun from old Rorikstead!_ ”

Vilkas and Kodlak cheered as Lena exhaled and released Delphine. “Oh, very funny. I’ll pay any amount of septims you wish if you can make Alduin do that,” Delphine said, and shuddered. “There are no words for how weird that feels!”

“I know. When the Greybeards taught me the Shout, they used it on me first, and I understand why they were wary of sharing it.” Lena turned, scanning the group. “Anyone else want another try?”

Vilkas shook his head. “Delphine had the most spectacular results, there’s no following that. Although, controlling Alduin’s going to be harder than making a talented singer show off her pipes,” he said, winking at Delphine, who shot an obscene gesture his way. “Do you think you can make us all do your bidding at the same time?”

“Hmmm…good idea. Ok. If you guys would all stand together,” she said, motioning with her hands to the verandah steps, where Farkas stood, his arms crossed over his chest. When they were all lined up, she took a deep breath. “Ok. Here goes. _Gol!_ ”

Sweat broke out on her forehead, as four warriors were definitely harder to control than one. She closed her eyes, and Vilkas could feel her will forcing his own to bend, to sit, whether he wanted to or not. Delphine was right – it was an indescribable sensation.

When Vilkas could move again, he sat up and pointed at Lena, wagging his finger. “I had a thought. Alduin’s not likely to-“ he began enthusiastically, but broke off as Lena sank to the ground. Vilkas exclaimed and ran over, supporting her as she struggled to stay upright. “Ok, maybe we’ll have a snack first.”

Farkas and Vilkas each took an arm and walked with her up to the verandah, where Delphine poured some wine and cut slices of apple pie and cheese. Farkas stood behind Lena while she ate and rested. The usually bustling verandah was too quiet without Ria and Njada and the other Companions, since everyone had been granted leave to visit their families in the calm before the storm that was due any day. Vilkas thought time seemed especially short, as he looked around the table at the people he loved most in the world. Too short.

“That took a lot out of me. But I think I’m getting stronger. I want to try more combination Shouts, too. Like Bend Will/Aura Whisper. Or Slow Time/Unrelenting Force plus a ranged attack. I’m going to have to hit Alduin with Dragonrend too, once I learn it. That one’s bound to be a rip-snorter,” she said, closing her eyes and leaning into Farkas’s hands as he rubbed her neck.

Kodlak sat across from her, his messy brows furrowed. “You shouldn’t need a ranged attack based on what Paarthurnax told you. Though, are you sure about that? Are you _sure_ he’s leading you right? If he doesn’t think defeating Alduin’s going to take combat or offensive magic, I…well, this is something I never expected.”

“I happen to agree, and I don’t have a mystical bone in my body. But,” Delphine said, refilling her goblet, “I am part of an organization rooted in what most people these days would call campfire tales. So, I’m willing to suspend my disbelief.”

“Plus,” Vilkas said, snagging an apple from Lena’s plate, “Paarthurnax is ancient. He might just have some insight we don’t. I’m willing to give it a chance, but…I think it’s good that we’re skeptical. It’s impossible to know what’s going on inside another’s mind.”

Lena broke a slice of cheese into pieces and popped one into her mouth. “I admit having doubts. I mean, all this time, I feel I’ve been led to believe there’ll be a fight. An actual fight. I’m trying to replay our conversations, and those with the Greybeards. You know, to see if I’m just reading into it. Even with the Greybeards trying to coax me away from violence, I just sort of assumed…kill the dragon. With fire and spears and things. Paarthurnax’s way seems so complicated and delicate.”

Vilkas looked up at his brother. Since they’d returned from Markarth, Farkas had been more like his old, quiet self. Letting Lena do the talking, and moping about more often than not. Something was wrong. “What do you think, brother?”

Farkas was silent for half a minute before replying, his fists clenching Lena’s chair. “I find it hard to trust anyone who says this can be done with ease.”

Lena twisted around to look at him. “At no point did he say it would be easy. Matter of fact, those Shouts are hard.” She straightened her spine and raised an eyebrow. “What, so you think magic is easy, now?”

Farkas said nothing, staring at the floor, his mouth set in a line. Lena stood up and stalked across the verandah into Jorrvaskr, slamming the door behind her.

Vilkas tossed his napkin in the center of the table and looked up at Farkas, disgusted. “Seriously? What the fuck?”

Delphine took a long sip of wine. “Not that I want to get in the middle of a disagreement between brothers, but I’m going to have to agree. Are you trying to hurt her? What are you thinking?”

Farkas huffed. “I don’t see how speaking a few words and twisting her hands around a little is going to defeat a dragon like Alduin. And I think Paarthurnax is setting us up. He told us we’d be fine. He told us we wouldn’t die, that the prophecy didn’t require Lena’s death. But what if he’s just telling her what she wants to hear? So she won’t give up? And then all those warnings…”

“What warnings?” Kodlak said, his steely gaze set on Farkas and his voice dangerously calm. “I’m going to address everything else you said in a moment, but first – what warnings?”

Farkas sat down in the seat Lena’d vacated. “He told me Lena would try to sacrifice herself for me. And I got the feeling I was just supposed to let it happen. He told Lena I’d do the same thing. For you too,” he motioned toward Vilkas with his hand. “That it was something brothers just did, without thinking. And husbands. And wives. I don’t want her to die for me.”

“It is strange that he’d tell you both the same thing, but then again, you’re lifelong friends and newlyweds. Devoted to one another, so perhaps not so surprising.” Kodlak steepled his fingers under his chin. “As for giving her life for yours, if she should choose such a course – and I hope it does not become necessary – why should she not be allowed to make that choice? Because it would hurt you? What if you kept her from that deed, and the world burned because of it? Do you think she’d thank you? Do you imagine you’d while away your days in Sovngarde? That she’d be happy with the knowledge she’d not been able to protect so many for the sake of your feelings?”

Farkas stared at his feet. “I can’t let her go alone. I can’t let her go.”

“Hmm…” Kodlak nodded, pointing at Farkas. “No one has said anything about letting her go alone. But if it comes down to it, and Lena chooses her fate, respect her choice. You’d want her to do the same thing if you were in her position.”

Vilkas scoffed, amazed at how much progress his brother’d made over the past few months, and how much he was letting slip through his fingers. Farkas just deliberately insulted his wife, something Vilkas had thought up to now was the stuff of preposterous fantasy. “You’re not leaving her alone. It’s your fight too; you’ve been preparing all week. What’s the point of those hand signals you spent hours devising, if not to fight together? Or all the protective and defensive maneuvers we’ve practiced for the last week? It’s your fight, too. She’s the fire, and you’re the steel. Unless you’re planning to sit it out. Scared, brother?”

Farkas rolled his eyes and glared at Vilkas. “Of course I’m afraid. Who wouldn’t be? But I don’t want to avoid the fight, or whatever it ends up being,” he said, lowering his head to his hands. “If anything, I just want it to be over, and that makes me so angry. And so _guilty_. Because these might be our last months, or weeks, or days together, and I –“ he broke off, and Vilkas could hear the tears in his voice as he tried to speak. He sniffed. So did Delphine. “I keep seeing her dead. Burned, slashed…gone. And I want it over. What kind of person does that make me? What kind of husband?”

“There it is,” Vilkas said, clasping Delphine’s hand and sighing in relief. “I knew there was something self-loathing-y going on for you to sabotage yourself like that. And hurt Lena. Classic Ice-Brain.”

Kodlak leaned across the table and grasped Farkas’s forearm. “Go talk to Lena, boy. And let me give you a tip. Self-sabotage notwithstanding, it would not do for you to describe magic as easy. Not just because it hurts her feelings and makes her feel insignificant,” he nodded at Farkas’s flinch, “but also because you’re dead fucking wrong.”

Farkas and Vilkas both regarded Kodlak with wide eyes. They could count on one hand the number of times they’d heard the man curse.

“Magic is in our blood, all of us, whether or not we practice. It is the force that holds us together. Holds the world together, keeps the moons in the sky, the stars in their never ending journey to…wherever stars go,” Kodlak said, gesturing at the dim twinkle in the early evening sky. “Your wife can harness that power. Shoot lightning from her fingertips. Control your minds. Slow time. Damn it all, Farkas. You saw her collapse out there. Magic isn’t easy. And who does she depend on to protect her when she collapses? Vilkas is correct. This is your fight.”

 

* * *

 

Farkas stood up without a word and and went inside. Lena sat by the firepit, angrily poking the embers with a long metal stick. “Gods, I’m sorry,” Farkas said, and gazed down at his wife.

Lena stared into the fire, the corners of her mouth trembling. “You’ve been pissy since we got back from Markarth. You were going to blow up, eventually. I knew it. I just never knew you thought so little of me.”

Farkas fell to his knees. “I didn’t think – that’s part of it. I didn’t think, and I don’t understand magic. My life has been combat, and I suppose if it’s not brutal and slashing, it strikes me as the easy way out. And that’s incredibly stupid, as the rest of them reminded me in no uncertain terms. But that…that’s not why I said it.” He took a deep breath and mumbled something, his eyes widening at Lena’s shocked glare.

“What? What was that?” Lena’s face was a thundercloud. “Say that again.”

“I wanted to make you feel...small, insignificant,” he mumbled again, slightly clearer, his eyes hollow as he stared into the fire. This was going to be impossible to do without hurting her even more. “I didn’t realize until Kodlak said… But-“

Lena’s eyes welled up, and tears fell down her cheeks. “Why? You love me. You’ve done nothing but build me up since we met. Why would you-“ she trailed off, her hands falling limply to her thighs.

“We don’t even know how many days we have left before Paarthurnax calls you, and I find myself wishing them away. Wishing this was all over – the fight, your duty as Dragonborn, everything. What kind of person doesn’t treasure every moment of what could be our last days together? Huh?” He shook his head in disgust. “You should be furious with me.”

“I am, but not because of that. Is that all, then?”

“That’s not enough? But, no. I-I don’t want you to leave without me. Do this without me, because you can. You don’t need me. As Kodlak said, you can harness the power of the stars,” he said, tears coming to his eyes, and his voice choking. “But if you think you need me...”

“If I feel like I can’t do it on my own, I’ll take you with me?” Lena gently placed her hand under Farkas’s chin and turned his face to hers. “Really? After all we’ve been through together?”

“You don’t need me. You love me. You want me to live,” he said, his hand on hers. “So why wouldn’t you try to save me? Sacrifice for me, just like Paarthurnax said you would?”

“I do love you. I do want you to live. And more than that, I don’t want you to see me die, if it comes to it. Do you want that, if it turns out Paarthurnax is lying, or wrong?” She jabbed the embers viciously with her poker. “Do you want to see Alduin crush me, or set me on fire? Or pick me up and throw me down that mountain? Are you ready to see that?”

“Never, but if…if it did happen, and I wasn’t there for you, my life would be over. Not worth living,” he huffed as Lena rolled her eyes. “It’s true.”

“Well, you know, if I thought I could do this without you, I might do exactly that. Sneak away early one morning, leave a note, and wish you a long, beautiful life.” She laughed at Farkas’s horrified expression. “What, do you think I want to see you dead by Alduin’s hand? Or claw, I guess? But I can’t do this without you.”

“That’s not true.”

Lena shook her head. “It is. Could I defeat Alduin without you there? It’s possible. I have the power, the skill to execute Paarthurnax’s plan. But you…you’re part of me. We vowed to be together in this life and the next, eternal companionship. We promised, now and forever. You and me.”

“Fire and steel,” Farkas whispered, taking one of her hands in his and feeling a glimmer of hope for the first time in a week.

“What was that?”

“Something Vilkas said. That it’s my fight too. You’re fire and I’m steel.”

“Yes,” Lena said, turning on her knees to face him, taking his other hand in hers. “Yes, you big – Farkas, remember that night in Kynesgrove? I said I wouldn’t leave you, and I won’t. If you choose to stay with me, we fight together. If it comes to it.”

 _“I’ll stand at her back, that the world might never overtake us_ ,” Farkas quoted, tears filling his eyes and spilling over as he pulled her close. “I am so sorry, Lena. The last thing I ever want to do is live without you. But I never want to hurt you again.”

Lena wrapped her arms around him and kissed him, long and deep and soft. “What you said about wanting everything to be over? I feel that too,” she said, her nose touching his, a steely glimmer in her eyes. “I like to think it’s because I have hope. That we’re going to _win_. Come on,” she said, pulling back and wiping one last tear from his astonished face, “let’s go see what Vilkas had in mind before I collapsed.”

 

* * *

 

As they walked through the doors, their arms wrapped around each other, everyone stood up and Vilkas raised his goblet.

“We’re ok, the big lug apologized,” Lena said, tightening her arms around his torso. “Now, Vilkas, what was it you wanted me to try? Before I collapsed out there?”

Vilkas stared at her a moment, and then his eyes brightened. “Oh, yeah. We need to see if you can stop brute-force action. What if you stand by the lookout, and we go to the underforge and run as hard as we can toward you? If you can’t stop us before we get to you…”

Lena nodded, chewing on her thumbnail. “There's no way I’d stop a dragon. That’s going to be tough. But you’re right. Alduin's not likely to be sitting still for me. Let’s do it.”

As soon as they were all in place, Lena readied her Shout and all four warriors started running on Vilkas’s whistle. Lena Shouted, her power reaching out, but they kept running. She strained, harder than ever, her power battering and pushing, trying to force them back against their will. This wasn’t going to work, she thought, and some small tendril of power began to unravel from her mind, seeking…another way in. But it was too late. Farkas reached her first and watched her, looking for signs of tiredness or magicka drain.

Lena grinned and bent over, her hands on her knees. “I need to try that again. There was something at the end… I think I’ve been going about this the wrong way.”

“What do you think?” Kodlak asked, his cheeks flushed with exercise and excitement. Lena still couldn’t believe his vitality had returned so completely after ridding himself of Hircine’s curse. Each time she saw him, Lena still expected to see the bent and broken Kodlak she’d grown up with. And it was a wonderful shock, each time.

Lena shook her head, excitement kindling in her belly. “I can’t tell you. If you know what it is…this has to be a surprise. It’s something Alduin woudn’t expect from me, I think.”

Again, they ran. But this time, instead of forcing them to stop, fighting against their will, Lena coaxed tendrils of her will to wrap softly around theirs. Soothing them. _There’s nothing to fear, nothing to run from,_ she crooned in her mind _. No danger, no pain. Just peace and warmth, forever._ The warriors stopped long before they got to the overlook.

Lena released her will, and Farkas ran to her, catching her in a hug and swinging her around.

“What was that?” Delphine shouted. “That was…amazing, Lena. It felt like…”

“Like I was sinking into a bath,” Vilkas said, rubbing his biceps with crossed arms. “A warm, glowing, bath.”

Kodlak nodded, smiling. “That was powerful. There are many ways to bend a will. Seduction has always been one of the most effective, and no,” he said, rolling his eyes at Vilkas, “seduction isn’t always sexual, boy. I’m betting Alduin’s never felt that way in all his long life. It will definitely knock him off guard.”

Lena flushed, exhilarated at her success. “Anyone want to keep practicing?”

Vilkas looked out at the mountains, a faint pink in the setting sun. “I think we need dinner. We’ve been practicing all day – all week – and you’re exhausted. Bannered Mare? Tilma’s gone to visit her daughter, and I don’t think anyone wants to eat my cooking.”

“Good idea,” Kodlak said. “Let’s get cleaned up a little and – “

The back door slammed, cutting off Kodlak’s direction as a red-faced city guard sprinted down the stairs to the yard. “Harbinger, we need your assistance. And the dragonborn. There’s a Stormcloak at the gate. He says he’ll only speak with her. Only give her – “ he bent over at the waist, wheezing and coughing, his hands braced on his knees.

Lena and Farkas exchanged glances. Only one Stormcloak? And it couldn’t be Ulfric, or the guard surely would have said so. Ulfric’s attempt to win Lena’s loyalty and his not-so-subtle threat to take her by force was still a worry, especially after Argis’s warning back in Markarth. If Ulfric discovered that rumors were spreading, it would only be a matter of time before the threats escalated. He would want to get to her first.

“Take a breath, son,” Kodlak whacked the guard’s back as he gasped. “What does this Stormcloak want with Lena?”

After a few deep breaths, he turned to Lena. “He has a message from Ulfric Stormcloak, and…there’s something wrong. He looks like he’s ridden for days, and he’s...just,” the young guard held his hands up, unable to find the words to describe what awaited them outside the gates. “Will you come?”

Lena glanced at her friends, her eyes wide and scared. “Come with me.”

Kodlak nodded and patted her on the back. “Good idea. I’m going to talk to Balgruuf. I’m assuming you four will come to Dragonsreach when you’re done. I have a feeling it will be necessary.”

Citizens and merchants buzzed with excitement and fear as they watched the city guard and armed Companions race through the village to the gate, and up into the guard tower. They’d heard a commotion outside, and thought they’d caught the word ‘Stormcloak,’ but didn’t hear an army or any fighting. But if the Companions were involved…

Lena squinted at the scene outside the gate. There, in the violet dusk, wearing Stormcloak blue and gray and flanked by Whiterun guards, was a tall, blond man. He looked up at the guard tower, and Lena gasped, not only at his familiarity, but also at the man’s condition. His face and hair were streaked with what looked like soot, and his uniform was tattered and covered in blood.

“Do you know him?” Delphine peered around Lena. “Wait, _I_ know him, he used to live in Riverwood before the war. I think that’s him anyway. Hard to tell under all the dirt and blood.”

Lena nodded. “That’s…he was at Helgen with me, on the cart. One of Ulfric’s lieutenants. His name’s Ralof.”

“I wonder how far away Ulfric is?” Vilkas scanned the fields outside the city wall where guards patrolled, the same idea having occurred to them. “Ulfric’s lieutenant wouldn’t risk his life coming to an Imperial stronghold to serve as courier.”

Lena nodded again, and looked down, her stomach beginning to clench a bit. Vilkas was right – there was more to this than a simple delivery. “Ralof of Riverwood. I’m sure you remember me, as I remember you. What is Ulfric’s message?”

Ralof exhaled and wiped his face with the blue cowl of his uniform. Sweat and dirt and tears streaked the already-dirty fabric. He held up a bag in one hand, rolling his eyes as the guards raised their swords. “This is Ulfric’s message. He said to tell you and the Blade – “ Ralof’s voice choked, and he swallowed hard before continuing. “He said to tell you thank you. For his chance at freedom.”

Lena frowned. The bag Ralof hefted was black at the bottom, and she couldn’t tell, but…was that blood? “Ralof, last time I saw Ulfric he threatened to take me, by force, to serve his cause. I see that you’re tired and possibly hurt, and I’m in no mood for cryptic messages. What’s in that bag? And what does Ulfric want?”

Ralof unwound the rope tying the bag shut, all the while keeping his eyes on Lena. He reached inside and grimaced. Lena grasped Farkas’s hand and squeezed hard, her heart beating faster as drops of the tarry substance dripped from the bag, creating tiny black pools in the soft dirt.

“Here,” Ralof yelled, tears streaming down his face. He bore the object aloft, its blond hair stained black with old blood, and its golden eyes unseeing in its haughty, golden face. “Ulfric won his freedom today, and this was both prize and price!”

Lena stared at the Altmer remains as Farkas, Vilkas, and Delphine ran down the stairs, a low roar building among the guards and civilians within shouting distance of the distraught Stormcloak. This could only mean one thing, she thought, tearing her eyes away from the gruesome sight and nodding at the guards. “Open the gates.”

 

 


	36. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next two are part of a mini-trilogy arc, explaining Ralof's actions at the end of chapter 35 and what it means for Lena's quest and the fate of Skyrim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's quite a bit of violence here. I didn't go into the chapter meaning for it to be so gruesome, but even my husband mentioned it, so I thought I might warn you guys before you start reading.

**4E 174**

“Please, Ulfric. Don’t make me do this.”

Ulfric sat struggling in his bonds, across from the golden woman who held the blood-soaked, shining knife. Elenwen, her father had called her, when they took over his ‘interrogation’ ten long days ago. At first, their act continued in the same vein. Derivative, if a bit more refined: pain, threat. Pain, threat. More pain.

But after three days, Elenwen healed him. As far as it was possible to heal, anyway. She’d walked into the cell and laid glowing hands on his legs, his back, his face…and he endeavored to conceal his shock as most of his injuries faded away.

A purple and green bruise spreading across her own jaw caught Ulfric’s eye as he’d held one scarred and gnarled hand before his face, marveling at the simple freedom of movement. He looked closer. A bloom of crimson marred the golden perfection of her right eye, and the shadow of a bruise encircled it as well.

“Why not heal yourself?” Ulfric wasn’t curious in the least, but it wasn’t often his gag was removed, and he’d not been able to resist taking a small shot. It’d probably result in another episode of paralysis, but he didn’t care, he’d realized with a start. After weeks spent in a haze of red-blazing agony, he felt good. And more than a little froggy.

“Sometimes the lesson isn’t that simple. Sometimes pain is just the beginning.” Elenwen paused, and Ulfric waited for the rebuke he knew was coming, the consequence of noticing an imperfection in one of the mighty Thalmor. The three justiciars who accompanied Elenwen leaned forward a bit, anticipating the same.

But none came, and she’d simply sighed, replacing his gag and checking his bonds. “I can’t replace what’s gone, what my father…took from you,” she said, her eyes boring into his as he reddened from hairline to neck.

The momentary lightness of being evaporated as reality clenched its cold fingers around his heart. Even if he survived this nightmare, he’d never be whole. He looked away, and she sighed again. “He’s decided on a new track for you. Rest up. You’ll need it.”

Next morning, he’d expected more pain, more threats and demands for information, and more creative methods to make him talk. Make him spill secrets he was privy to as a high-ranking officer in the Legion, and that’s exactly what happened. At dawn, two justiciars collected him from his surprisingly clean cell. Altmer and their obsession with cleanliness afforded him the basic comforts – he wasn’t sitting in his own filth, at least.

The interrogation chamber in which they’d bound him was similar to the previous day’s, but larger. Same windowless stone walls, the drain in the floor and hooks dangling from the ceiling as ominous as ever. _Let’s get this over with._ Last night’s pain-free sleep had been refreshing, but Ulfric knew its occurrence would be rare, if not unique. He knew what lay before him. Or, so he'd thought.

The door opened and in walked the two Altmer he’d been anticipating and dreading in equal measure – richly dressed in red and gold, their hair loose, held back from their faces by golden circlets.

Not justiciars, in unrelieved black, or soldiers in shining gold armor. _What are they_ …Ulfric’s eyes snapped toward the door as three soldiers strode in, carrying three people, their hands and feet bound with rough rope, and their heads covered with what looked like flour sacks.

With mastery as foreboding as the act itself, the soldiers wrapped the captives’ torsos in chains and hung them from the hooks in the ceiling. The sacks were torn off, and Ulfric’s heart raced as they swung, their eyes open. Terrified. Staring at him. Pleading with him. Ulfric was their countryman, their commander. Surely he could stop this.

A different track, Elenwen had hinted. His muscles tensed, and he swallowed hard behind his gag, praying to Talos for the strength to stand firm. Well, as far as he could stand, helpless and strapped to a chair.

He wasn’t sure the gods listened anymore. They used to – he’d seen proof of their existence in the Shouts he’d learned as a child. In the temples as healers tended his small hurts and injuries. So despite everything he’d seen over the last two years, he still prayed to Talos, but lifted a more fervent prayer to himself. _Don’t give up. Don’t give in. Stay true._

And he had. For a full week, he’d screamed behind his gag and soaked it with tears as they’d broken his brothers in arms. A medic, several Quaestors, one of the cooks, even a servant of Dibella who’d followed the Legion, her doe eyes and warm hands seducing and comforting in equal measure.

Ulfric hadn't betrayed the Empire. But he died a little inside every time he made the choice to hold his silence. Again and again.

Today, he began to feel his own breaking, the process slow, yet inevitable. These elves had found his weak link, their delicate, murderous fingers probing and searching until they figured it out. Figured him out. Ulfric knew – they did, too – that the chain of his resolve couldn’t hold much longer.

“Please,” Elenwen said again, and sobbed, tears streaming down her cut-glass cheeks. She’d been breaking for a while, as well. When they’d taken over, Elenwen’s father was obviously the more enthusiastic of the two. He’d smiled, laughed, and joked as he’d hurt Ulfric. Flayed the skin from his back and cut…pieces…from his body. Elenwen said she couldn’t give them back, but Ulfric didn’t want anything. He knew he would die. He only hoped his strength wouldn’t desert him in the time he had left.

But Elenwen, while she’d gone along with her father’s instructions, hadn’t displayed any enthusiasm for the sport. And into their third week together, she showed signs of deterioration. The knife shook in her hand, wavering as she approached the struggling captives.

Three again, today, as usual. And, as usual, those he’d sworn to honor. To protect. Well, two of them, anyway. Ulfric looked the two men in the eyes. He could at least do that. Acknowledge their plight. Their suffering. Accept the requisite blame. He understood now why Lorcan had insisted on healing him: his good health shone bright, a badge of cowardice before those persecuted in his stead. How were they to know he'd once hung where they did now? _I did, didn't I?_ Guilt smothered Ulfric anew, choking his lungs like ash from a wildfire. Twisting his memories, poisoning his mind with doubt.

The third victim was a woman. An Altmer, young and lovely behind her bruises. But he couldn’t place her. What were they playing at?

“Please. I don’t want to die, Ulfric. My father…you heard him, it’s me or them. You’re honorable enough to make a different choice, I know. But I’m not,” Elenwen croaked, the knife slipping in her hand as the door opened.

Her demeanor changed from grown woman to lost child in an instant. She cringed before the golden, ebony-haired man, her eyes shuttered and blank, her lips pressed together in her whitening face. Ulfric flicked his eyes toward the older Altmer and studied him. Lorcan almost floated across the floor in his robes, such was his grace, his composure.

He was older than his daughter, but as with all Altmer, it was difficult to tell by how much. Ulfric didn’t blame Elenwen for her fright. He’d seen what her father could do. He’d seen terrifying sights all over Skyrim, the horrors of war, and nothing much scared Ulfric. Lorcan did.

“Why is this filth not yet dead?” He raised a finger and lightning streamed from it, hitting the nearest captive’s stomach. Ulfric’s own Auxiliary, a young Nord who’d joined up a month before the ambush, vomited behind his gag. His fox-red hair had been shaved close to his head, and blood streamed down his face where interrogators had been less than careful with the shears.

Ulfric forced his eyes up to meet Lorcan’s, and tried to Shout around his gag. No use. If only power could stream from his eyes. He’d been holed up in this prison…fort… whatever it was the Dominion used for a torture chamber north of the Imperial City, for weeks now. Had it been weeks? Months? He’d been trying to Shout the entire time. But even if he got lucky, they’d just paralyze him again. It was a futile struggle, he understood. But it didn’t stop him from trying to save the boy he’d barely gotten to know. A boy he’d failed so completely.

Lorcan turned his expressionless gaze on Elenwen. “I told you what would happen if you disobeyed me,” he said, lazily lifting his hand and shooting another violet blast square at her chest.

Elenwen screamed, and Ulfric’s eyes shone with unconcealable satisfaction. She seemed genuinely afraid of her father, but she’d also genuinely abused Ulfric and his friends for weeks now. His sympathies only stretched so far.

Lorcan grinned, his eyes glancing over Ulfric as well. “Now you will do your duty. Sympathies should not be spared for animals, daughter.” He walked over to an ornate metal table and picked up a dagger, casually running his fingers over the edge, spreading fire over the golden blade.

With one last smirk in Ulfric’s direction, Lorcan turned toward the second captive and swung in a low arc. Ulfric met his Quartermaster’s steel-gray eyes as he yelled under the blade. Scents of burning flesh and hot, salty iron filled the room, reminding Ulfric of the day he’d joined the Legion. The gruff man had taken one look at Ulfric’s swaggering bravado and laughed. “Look around, boy,” he’d said, pointing toward the medic’s tents and soldiers walking barefoot in the late Autumn’s chill. “This isn’t a grand adventure. Don’t insult it by treating it so.”

Lorcan swung again and again until the old Nord passed out, his legs quivering in involuntary spasms.

Rough rope scraped against his skin as Ulfric struggled in his bonds, feeling nothing but his own uselessness. It unraveled him, thread by thread, flaying his soul as bare as the bloody flesh on his arms and ankles.

He looked from Elenwen to Lorcan to his brothers, unable to think. There had to be something he could do to stop it. But there was nothing.

“These are Imperial subjects, Ulfric Stormcloak. Sons of Skyrim. As are you. A hero, fighting to save a dying empire. But where are those you’re fighting for? The exalted Emperor. Your High King. Have they come to help? No,” Lorcan sneered, not raising a hand to wipe blood spatter from his eyes, his mouth, “and they won’t. Because you’re nothing to them. Skyrim sent you into this war, but will not lift a finger to save its native son? Even as you’re a son of a jarl, you’re nothing. Less than nothing. And so are these...people. Your friends. Your family.”

He approached the Auxiliary again, ripping his tunic down the middle with the dagger. He didn’t bother lighting the blade on fire again, just made a lazy strike upward, smiling at the boy’s bulging and darkening eyes. A tell-tale odor filled the air as he died, his guts spilling out and steaming as they spattered the freezing cold stone. “Left to our…care and concern.”

Vomit lurked too close to the back of Ulfric’s throat and he forced it down, jerking against his bonds once more. His own torture had been excruciating, unspeakable. _Hadn't_ _it_? The breaking of his brothers, their bodies, their souls…a thousand times worse. _I failed them. Failed everyone. I should have stayed on that mountain_.

“Then again, what is family?” Lorcan tapped his chin and mused. He might have been discussing the merits of a poem or song given the lightness of his expression. He haphazardly hit Elenwen with more lightning, smiling down at her as she flailed on the blood-and-shit-covered floor, groaning with pain. “My own daughter’s a failure. She’s let me down more grievously than Skyrim’s let you down, I promise you that. I’m trying, out of the goodness of my heart,” he said, beating his chest with a fist, “to give her another chance, but…”

Lorcan stalked to the door, throwing his daughter one last withering look before he left. “You will do as I ask, or more will suffer, as will you.”

Did Lorcan believe Elenwen cared about the Nords? Those she tortured? No. She didn’t care. Couldn’t… Ulfric watched Elenwen as she slowly pulled herself up and walked over to the struggling Altmer. And why was this woman here? Ulfric didn’t know her, how could they possibly use her against him?

Elenwen winced, lifting her knife once more, blood dripping from the burns on her arms and chest. “Please, Ulfric. Please tell me what I need to know. We’ll find out anyway, and no one else needs to die. Please…”

 

* * *

 

**PRESENT DAY**

Jarl Balgruuf drained the mead from his goblet and sat back in his chair. He glanced behind his shoulder at Irileth before pinning the Stormcloak soldier with a skeptical gaze. This Ralof wove a compelling tale, true enough. Balgruuf’s eyes flicked over the Dovahkiin, sitting further down the table with her husband and the other Companions. And another warrior he didn’t recognize. Lena’s face was pale, under a greenish cast. Balgruuf understood, given her history with the Dominion. She hadn’t been subjected to their tender mercies, but she’d seen those who had. Not a sight easily purged from memory.

But Ulfric? It wasn’t a topic of polite conversation, but everyone knew what he’d done. It took a masterful and charismatic man to turn treachery into justice, but given the strength of the Stormcloak army, that’s exactly what happened. “And that’s why Ulfric betrayed the Empire? To save a few prisoners? And he was interrogated by the Dominion’s First Emissary? Lena,” he said, ignoring a spluttering Ralof.

Lena jumped, startled, and Farkas rose to stand behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. Balgruuf huffed. Only a bit overprotective. But given what the two had gone through over the last year, he couldn’t blame the man. “What do you think? Did you hear anything of Elenwen as an interrogator?”

Lena reached out and picked up her goblet, candlelight wavering over the silver as it wobbled in her trembling hand. “What Ralof describes is…was…not uncommon where I was held. Perhaps not as violent. Ulfric was...before my time, but I did hear Elenwen and her father had been…special. In their field. Before they rose to such prominence here in Skyrim,” she said, gritting her teeth as she struggled to set her goblet down softly. She didn’t succeed. As it clanked on the table, Balgruuf grunted and turned back to Ralof.

“That seems difficult to believe, even for you, Stormcloak. How do you know you can afford to buy what Ulfric sold you?”

“He endured the physical torment. Everything they could devise, and I’ve seen proof. Have you ever seen Ulfric’s hands? Seen him without a shirt? Ulfric’s never been married, all these years. Didn’t you wonder why, a man of his stature and position? Use your gods-rotting imagination,” Ralof said, rolling his eyes at the guards flanking his chair as they flinched. Given everything his jarl had suffered, their precious jarl could handle an insult or two.

“The Dominion’s finest had him for weeks before that witch and her bastard father took over, and he only broke when they turned on his friends and brothers in arms. Finally understood what drove him. His weakness,” Ralof spat. The Dominion had a lot to learn about the ‘weakness’ of Nords. _They know a lot more now, in whatever godsforsaken place those monsters spend their afterlives_.

“You want to hear how your precious First Emissary treats prisoners of war? Ulfric watched her burn one soldier’s eyes out with magic. Her father? Oh, your dragonborn’s right - he had a special knack for it. Cut a company cook’s leg off, inch by inch. Sawed through and cauterized a little at a time. Drowned and revived another soldier over and over, until –“

“Enough! That’s enou-”

“No!” Ralof bolted from his chair, jabbing his finger in the jarl’s direction. The guards behind him stepped forward in alarm, but waited on Balgruuf’s word. None came, and Ralof shook them off. “You question Ulfric’s integrity. His courage. His devotion to the people of Skyrim. How dare you? Do you know how he finally broke? You don’t want to know. I get it - you want to sit here in your palace and believe rumors, all the comforting lies, but you’re going to listen.” Ralof braced his hands on the table and stared Balgruuf down, challenging him to look away. He didn’t. _Maybe he’s ready to understand_.

“Elenwen or maybe her father, Ulfric never knew for sure, kidnapped a woman and her kids from a little settlement south of Bruma. Not Nords this time, but Altmer. Their own kind. I don’t know why, maybe to show Ulfric that anyone could be slaughtered if it meant victory for the Dominion.” Ralof swallowed, remembering Ulfric’s face as he’d told the tale. His eyes, wild and haunted, his hands twisting into grasping claws.

“Her father – that sadistic fuck – flayed the woman. Alive. He brought the children in to watch. Watch as she hung, strung up next to two dead, decaying men. Watch as Lorcan peeled the skin from her back, inch by inch. To listen as their mother screamed and sobbed and vomited when she could scream no more. That was Ulfric’s breaking point. Can you be so sure of yours?”

Ralof expected guards to grab him at any moment, but he didn’t care. Ulfric was…he ran a clawed hand down his face and turned to look at Lena and the Companions. All wore expressions of varying levels of anger. Lena’s was tinged with more than a little fear and sadness. She knew. Gods, if she’d just joined with Ulfric back in Winterhold. Ralof closed his eyes and allowed himself to wonder…things might have been so different. _Wouldn’t they_?

Balgruuf poured another goblet of mead and brought it to his lips without taking a drink. Not trusting himself to speak, he set the goblet back on the table and stared into its depths. The man’s story couldn’t be true. Could it? Was it so different from what went on in Castle Dour’s interrogation chambers? In his own? _And…when would I have broken_? Balgruuf didn’t like the answer that gamboled through his mind, and drained his goblet in one desperate swallow.

“And where was the Empire? Where was Skyrim? They made no move to protect Ulfric or his countrymen. So Ulfric did,” Ralof said, sitting back in his chair and hiding his face in his hands. He’d be lucky to get through the next part of the story without getting roaring, stinking drunk. But he had to. Skyrim depended on it. On him. Gods, what a thought. “Ulfric did. He just…had no idea what it was he did.”

 

 

 

 


	37. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two of Ulfric's mini-trilogy.

**4E 176**

“What is it, Hrolfdir?” Ulfric noticed the exiled jarl fidgeting in his doorway, but kept his eyes on his letters, scrawling out and sealing one last request for aid. A courier was due that afternoon or the next, and he had to be ready. Dozens of soldiers were expected from Eastmarch in the coming week, and Rorikstead could support nowhere near that many. Something had to be done. “Is anything amiss?”

“You could say that,” Hrolfdir said, brushing nonexistent dust off his burgundy tunic. “There’s an Altmer here asking for you. Says she has news you’ll want to hear. She’ll only speak to you.”

Ulfric looked up, his brows furrowed. He didn’t know of a single Altmer who’d willingly seek him out. Mer of any derivation found themselves unwelcome among his base. Khajiit and Argonians could keep their distance as well. No, they weren’t all dirty thieves or allied with Thalmor, but Ulfric didn’t want to waste valuable time separating good from bad.

But a single Altmer female asking for him, personally? If she possessed any information he could one day use against the Dominion, he owed it to Skyrim to put aside his distaste (and fear of the memories and nightmares such a meeting could provoke) and at least give her a hearing. He shivered. “Is she alone? Have our scouts seen evidence of a party?”

“No,” Hrolfdir said, crossing his arms over his chest and shifting his weight from leg to leg. “That was my first question, too. The scouts tracked her for a day from the southeast. She’s alone.”

“I’ll see her, and send her on her way,” Ulfric said, wincing as he stood up from his desk. He needed a walk and a stretch in any case. Two years had passed since his captivity, and some of the scars still ached. “Does she stink of the Dominion?”

Hrolfdir shrugged. “Hard to say. She’s been roughed up, to be sure. She’s not high and mighty, like some. A little tarnish on that gold. Ulfric,” Hrolfdir said, straightening as they walked out to the main room of Frostfruit Inn. He’d been waiting on something to motivate the man for weeks. Markarth was suffering, and Hrolfdir needed resolution. And action. “Have you made your decision?”

“It’s just…not something to be taken lightly. Retaking Markarth from Reachmen…my men already suffered loss during the Great War. I don’t want to put them through that again.” Ulfric turned, walking backward as he made a sweeping gesture with one leather-clad palm. “Unless I know we can win.”

 

* * *

 

  
“You!” Ulfric shouted, shoving his Altmer visitor against the stable wall. He lowered his voice as a horse nickered in a nearby stall. “How could you come here? Remember those you and your father slaughtered? Their families are here. Their friends. How dare you? Haven’t you done enough?”

“You don’t need protection from me, Ulfric. Nor does anyone here. But I can help. I finally escaped my father,” Elenwen said, choking on her words and reaching back to massage her aching skull. Ulfric’s gloved fingers yanked her braids painfully. “You don’t need to fear me, but you need to know –“

Ulfric slammed her once more against the wall, releasing his hold on her hair and backing up. He spat on the ground and swallowed hard, forcing the contents of his stomach to stay down. Elenwen. Gods. Never in his darkest nightmares did he imagine their paths would cross again. “What do I need to know? That you’re sorry? That you regret all the things you did? That you only did them because your papa made you? You sang that song already and it didn’t move me then, either.”

“No. I know you could never forgive me for what I’ve done. But,” she stammered, flattening herself against the wall, “I have to atone anyway. The gods are watching, and they care even if you don’t, and this might be my only chance. Once my father finds out what I’ve done...”

Ulfric struggled between rage and curiosity. She did look roughed up, to quote Hrolfdir. Bruises on her face, her golden eyes ringed with purple circles, blood on her clothes. As thin as she’d been back then, she was nearly skin and bones now. Curiosity won out, at least for the moment. “So what is it, then?”

Elenwen’s shoulders slumped and she closed her eyes, unable to meet Ulfric’s. “The Empire has allowed my father to quarter in Solitude, in Castle Dour. Until his embassy is complete.”

The Aldmeri Dominion accepted the terms of the so-called treaty, the White Gold Concordat, as had the Empire. Neither side claiming victory or nursing defeat. But if what Elenwen said was true… “The Dominion is occupying Skyrim? Is this what you’re telling me? The Empire is allowing this?”

“They are. They don’t trust the jarls, I heard him say. Because of Talos. I mean, Tiber Septim,” she said, her back stiffening as he glared her down. “Old habits die hard, Ulfric. I am who I am.”

Ulfric nodded, pacing a little before her. He’d given up on the gods years ago, even if his countrymen remained faithful. How could he expect anyone else, much less an Altmer, to feel what he couldn’t? “What else?”

“Legions,” Elenwen whispered, wringing her hands in the fabric of her ruined gold gown, crusted blood flaking off and dotting the bare ground under their feet. “Titus Mede has authorized two legions to occupy Skyrim as well.”

“The Empire and the Thalmor are occupying Skyrim together?” Ulfric stopped pacing and walked toward her again. “As allies?”

“That’s what it looks like.”

“I can’t believe it. You have to be lying,” Ulfric said, advancing closer. He narrowed his eyes at her visible shudder. “They signed that gods-damned treaty. Why sign if they’re just going to-”

“What else do you expect?” Elenwen blurted out, and shrank back under Ulfric’s stony gaze. “H-Hammerfell fought for them during the war, and they abandoned them. Completely disavowed. And you. They left you to…to me. And my father.”

Ulfric stood silent, reflecting on the glut of emotions swirling in his gut. He wasn’t truly surprised, he realized after a moment. What Elenwen told him was unpleasant to hear, but not all that shocking. Had he expected something like this from the Empire? Maybe. He’d verify the truth of her words, and if she lied again, she’d pay. “How did you get away?”

“While father was cozying up to the general in Falkreath, I ran,” she said, holding her arm out to display a nasty cut on her bicep. “I cut myself to leave a false trail, right to a cave in the north. Turns out, there were Hagravens there. If my father followed my trail, no doubt he’d believe me dead. And Hagravens…do things to their kills, so…”

“Smart,” Ulfric grunted, begrudgingly. Hagravens left few remains. He hooked his thumbs in the pockets of his black tunic and furrowed his brow. “Where do you go from here?”

Elenwen clamped her lips together, and stared at the ground. Then she chuckled. “I have nowhere to go. I disavowed my people and my family. Maybe some temple –“

“You’ll stay with me. As my prisoner,” he said quickly, “as much as I was yours. You can’t possibly think I’d let you out of my sight.” Ulfric watched her. _Resist. I dare you, fight me. Please._

She nodded, her eyes flicking over his shoulders as they fell, just slightly, at her meek assent. “I understand. Check out my story. You’ll see. I’m telling the truth.”

 

* * *

  
Ulfric walked past the small room in which he’d quartered Elenwen and stopped, doubling back to the guard he’d assigned to her detail. “How long has that been going on?” A loud wail sounded from within, and Ulfric jerked a thumb toward the wooden door.

“All night.”

Ulfric grunted and motioned to the guard. “You’re dismissed for now. Go get something to eat.” He waited until the guard disappeared down the hall before opening the door. “A conscience is a hard mistress to serve.” He watched as Elenwen’s back straightened in her bed. She didn’t turn over to face him.

“It is. I’ve hated my father for years. So many years. But being among those who hate _me_ is…it’s hard,” she said, and sniffed. “I didn’t realize…it’s like I’ve been slapped all day. The looks…”

“Can you blame them? We were embroiled in a war that claimed most of their friends and kin. Because of you.”

“I can’t blame them, of course, but…I did what I did because I wanted to stay alive. Remember when I told you I wasn’t as noble as you? That I couldn’t make the decision you would make, to let yourself die for someone else?”

Ulfric nodded, and rolled his eyes. She couldn’t see him with her head buried in her pillow. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know who I am anymore. What am I even doing here?” She pushed up on her elbows and turned to him then, her red velvet nightgown plunging, showing an expanse of smooth, golden skin and a glimpse of rounded breasts.

Where’d she acquire such a get-up? He was far too polite to ask. Elenwen hid her face in her hands.

“Good night,” Ulfric said, and shut the door. He wasn’t sure what Elenwen wanted from him. Sympathy? Affirmation? Well, he couldn’t give it, he snarled to himself, and walked out to the small table between their quarters.

Was he doing the right thing, keeping Elenwen here? Unbidden and unwanted, memories flooded his thoughts as he let his mind wander.

_Ulfric limped through an underground passageway, slick with water and moss and slime. Trying to keep up with the lithe Altmer in front of him was a punishing task. Even after Elenwen’s healing, mangled feet connected to crooked legs didn’t make for much of a stride. Finally, they reached an ancient wooden trapdoor. He stopped at the ladder and looked around with narrowed eyes, half expecting Lorcan to show up and dash his hopes once again._

_Although, what hope did he have? He’d betrayed the Legion, the Empire. He’d not been able to protect his friends and brothers. What life did he have to go back to? Would his father even take him in? Would everyone know what he’d done? Ulfric wasn’t sure he could live with himself, in any case. He would know, even if no one else did._

_“My father isn’t coming, if that’s what you’re wondering. This isn’t a trap.”_

_Ulfric frowned. “I don’t have a choice at this point. I have to take the leap,” he said, accepting the pouch of food and potions she held out. He knew what Elenwen was. He couldn’t believe anything she said, even if her father did treat her like a sub-human. Definitely lower than mer. A spark of memory kindled in his mind. “So what did you do?”_

_“Do?” She blinked._

_“To disappoint your father,” he said, and his eyes widened at her obvious distress. She’d stumbled back a step and her face reddened from neck to hairline. “He said something about it weeks ago. Before he…before I…” Ulfric swallowed._ Before I betrayed my country, my emperor and everyone I love.

_Ulfric hadn’t seen Lorcan since the day the demented interrogator had pranced into his cell, crowing that the Imperial City had fallen, that they’d captured it just a few days after he’d broken. “And why are you helping me anyway?”_

_“I told you already. My father was going to kill you, and-“_

_“Yes, but why do you care? Yeah, you hate your father, but you don’t have any reason to want me alive.”_

_“No,” she said. “No I don’t.” She waited, but Ulfric crossed his hands over his chest and stared her down._

_“Fine, and then you’ll leave? I’d hate for this to be for naught. It’s going to be hard enough convincing him you finally managed to Shout me down. At least he’ll blame himself for letting you have so much rest and isolation,” she said and paused, shivering._

_“I was sent to Anvil. Second largest military presence after the Imperial City. Plus the Mages’ Guild there was second to none, and very involved in the fighting. And…the Fighters’ Guild,” she said, staring at the ground. Ulfric could swear there were tears in her eyes, but it might have been the gold shimmer. Damn Altmer, they were too hard to read._

_“There was…someone. I was the enemy, but he didn’t know that. Thought I was an innocent female caught up in the chase. I…developed feelings for him, and my father found out. I’m not going into it further.”_

_“What, wrong pedigree for daddy? Not shiny enough?”_

_She stared at him. “You could say that. He wasn’t Altmer. Wasn’t even mer.”_

_Ulfric stumbled and huffed, shifting his weight from leg to leg. “You were involved with…you had feelings for a human? Wait,_ was _he a human? Khajit? Argonian?”_

_“Imperial, if you must know. So that’s how I disappointed him. His own daughter, a blood traitor. And it’s not like we were wed, although I…”_

_Her face softened, and a faraway look crossed her eyes for a moment. But it disappeared just as quickly, and she frowned and pointed at the trapdoor. “Go. I’m already regretting this.”_

The candlelight on Ulfric’s table flickered, its airy whooshing loud in the dark inn. Elenwen’s crying had silenced, and the guard hadn’t returned from his break. Ulfric leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

Before he slipped away into sleep, an odd thought crossed his mind – Elenwen never explained why she’d helped him escape. He wondered why, for a moment or two, but eventually the exhausting day caught up to him, and he gave in, once more, to the swirling darkness of his dreams.

 

* * *

 

“You were right.”

Elenwen whirled around on her bed, hastily pushing something under her pillow, behind her back. “What?”

“What are you doing?” Ulfric tried to peer around her, to get a look at her hands.

“Nothing,” she stammered, patting the pillow and bedcovers, as though performing an ordinary daily chore. “You just startled me.”

“Don’t try that on with me, Elenwen,” Ulfric said, and stepped past the threshold. She’d hidden something under her pillow. What was it, a letter from her father? Proof she was up to her old tricks? “I’ll ask you one more time. What are you doing?”

She sighed heavily and handed Ulfric a crumpled sheet of parchment. Ulfric scanned it quickly, a puzzled expression wrinkling his face. “What in Oblivion is this? It reads like your eulogy.”

“I’ve been here two weeks. You or that guard watches my every step. I get death threats, and I’m afraid you’re never going to believe me,” she said, her hand moving back under her pillow. “Believe that I’m on your side.”

“You think that pushing me to retake Markarth, to fight in the Reach…you think that’s being on my side? How’s that?” Ulfric huffed. Elenwen had been vocal about the plight of Markarth over the past week. Hrolfdir had even taken to using her name when addressing her instead of his usual barked ‘Thalmor!’ Ulfric had no idea why Elenwen cared about a Nord city, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was up to no good.

“You’re the only one who can do it. Everyone else is busy toadying to the Empire. You could be king of Skyrim. You could-“

“Wait,” Ulfric interrupted, something she’d said just registering. “What death threats?”

“How do you think I was going to accomplish what you just read in that charming missive of farewell? Some concerned citizen sent me a bouquet to go along with his prose,” she said, handing him a bunch of plants.

“Deathbell and nightshade? You were going to eat these?” Ulfric threw them down, advancing. A guard outside stepped to the open doorway, alarmed by Ulfric’s raised voice. Ulfric waved his hand and nodded, and the guard sat back down.

“Well,” Elenwen said, her face pale except for a bright red splotch on each cheek, “what else am I supposed to do?”

“You said you want to help. So help. Killing yourself seems the easy way out.”

“You can’t protect me, Ulfric,” she said, her tearful eyes narrowing at his slumping shoulders. “I was hoping my death and that missive would inspire you. You could retake the Reach and become everything that I, the Dominion, the Empire... everything we all tried to take from you.”

“Well, that wouldn’t have done it,” Ulfric said, whistling softly under his breath. He didn’t remember Elenwen being quite so dramatic. “And as I was trying to explain before I walked in on this…this farce, you were right. My spies from Solitude confirm justiciar presence at Dour. Along with Imperial troops, far more than necessary to garrison the emperor’s vacant dwelling.”

She looked up at him, her golden eyes wide with fear. “They saw my father? You- you believe me?” She jumped up from the bed and threw herself into his arms, pressing her breasts against his chest. “Thank you, Ulfric. Thank you for telling me. I know it means little to you now, but I really am on your side.”

Ulfric pulled back, his heart pounding. Racing in his chest. What in Oblivion was wrong with him? Elenwen was a damned Thalmor. She’d hurt him. Torn his friends and brothers to shreds. He couldn’t be reacting to her as a woman. But… “That remains to be seen. And yes, I can protect you. Whoever sent those plants will be dealt with.”

 

* * *

 

“This just came.” Ulfric held a slip of parchment over Hrolfdir’s plate. The increasingly bitter jarl was deep into his third breakfast. Ulfric hadn’t been able to count that morning’s mugs of mead. “Did the Reachmen allow you to leave Markarth peacefully last year? Or did you leave because they threatened to kill you?”

“They threatened a lot of things. Kept my son to ensure my good behavior,” Hrolfdir said, his lips curling under his moustaches. He reached for the parchment with a wavering hand. “Better to fight another day, we thought, and somehow we could get Igmund out of there. But we were-”

“This isn’t a time for hindsight or regret,” Ulfric said, placing the parchment firmly in Hrolfdir’s grip. _It’ll end up in his soup otherwise_. “If this is accurate, Madanach is killing Nords involved in an attempt to take back the city. Hundreds of them.”

Hrolfdir took a minute to read the shaky penmanship. “They’re killing citizens of Markarth? We have to go now, Ulfric. If the people are trying to fight back, there might be a chance for us. And you’re the only one who can help. The other jarls are too busy trying to get their holds back in shape. They have no soldiers to spare.”

“I haven’t been gathering followers over the past year to throw them against Reachmen. Against witches. I want to fight for Skyrim. For an independent Skryim. Against the Empire and the Dominion.”

“Without the riches of the Reach, Ulfric, that will never come to pass,” Hrolfdir said, his words convincing even as his drunken manner and accompanying belch were not. “And I swear to you, if that day comes, I will be at your side.”

“And you’ll allow Nords to be Nords? To worship as we please? Despite the treaty?”

Hrolfdir nodded. He knew Ulfric wasn’t a religious man, but his troops and followers? They would disperse right quick if they thought they weren’t fighting for every bit of their freedom. And what would it hurt? Would the Empire even know? “You get my city back, I will be in your debt.”

Ulfric rose from the table and stalked across the main room of the inn, knocking on Elenwen’s door. He stormed in, the Altmer’s face a mask of surprise at his obvious unease.

“Madanach’s killing Nords in the Reach. There’s been an uprising.”

“Are you going?”

“I’m still undecided,” Ulfric said, shaking his head as he leaned against a wooden dresser. “I’m curious about why the Empire hasn’t come yet. Or Istlod. The Reach has been under Madanach’s rule for over a year now. Why would he sit in his palace and let witches chip away at his country? Kill his citizens?”

Elenwen sat gracefully down on her bed, her Nord-style blue tunic a little large on her still-too-slight frame. “If my father has anything to do with it, he’s keeping them away.”

“Why?” Ulfric knew why. He understood things hadn’t been right in Skyrim for a long, long time. But he needed to hear someone else say it aloud. Even someone like Elenwen.

“Why not? Lorcan and the Dominion can control a divided Skyrim. A province under a weak king who won’t lift a finger to aid his holds, his people. Why would my father work to change that? Now, if a strong ruler came to power,” Elenwen said, standing up and walking closer to Ulfric, her golden eyes alight with something Ulfric couldn’t quite comprehend, “one who held the loyalty of his subjects? A man who loved Skyrim and held the best interests of the people in his heart, rather than power and riches? Well…you’d see Lorcan move quickly.”

Ulfric backed up to stand in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. He only wanted to fight for a united and free Skyrim – his plan wasn’t to rule. But if Istlod wasn’t coming, if the Dominion kept him and the Empire away…what else could be done?

 

* * *

 

Elenwen looked up from her pillow as the brazen door to her chamber (her tiny chamber, she couldn’t help but note. More like a storage closet.) opened and a huge shadow filled the doorway. She shielded her eyes from his lantern’s light. “Ulfric? What-“

“So, you were right,” Ulfric said, taking a long sip from the jug of wine he carried in his other hand. He didn’t know why he was seeking solace in drink. He’d won, hadn’t he? The Reach was free. Talos’s temple reconsecrated. He’d just witnessed Madanach and his witches executed after weeks of Hrolfdir’s hemming and hawing. The jarl still felt insecure on his throne and hadn’t wanted to execute valuable prisoners, but Ulfric wasn’t about to let enemies of Skyrim live.

He watched Elenwen sit up in bed and push her hair back. Was she his enemy, after all this time? The past few weeks had been uncomfortable. Awkward, even. Elenwen’s newly-found smile had transformed her face, and Ulfric could barely find the woman who’d abused him in her laughing, joyful eyes. “About the Empire, the Dominion, Markarth…everything. What else are you right about?”

“Ah, what do you mean?”

“Oh, don’t play coy with me now,” he said, gesturing to the plunging neckline of her purple nightgown. Where did she keep coming up with these fetching garments? “It doesn’t become you. You’ve been throwing yourself at me for weeks. Why? What’s your game plan?”

Elenwen dropped her coy smile and leaned back against the bronze headboard. “You’re right. It doesn’t become me. But I have no game plan. This is no game. You-“

“The Dominion’s perfect jewel harbors tender feelings for the filthy Nord? No better than beasts, you and your father called us, not so long ago. What changed?”

“Nothing changed. At least not you. You are…as you ever were. I, on the other hand-”

“Your heart softened?” Ulfric drank a little more. He should stop. But he wouldn’t. How else would he find the courage to say what had been burning a hole in his heart longer than he’d like to admit? “I’m no gallant Imperial, eager to save the innocent maiden fair, Elenwen. I know who you are. What you are.” What was he doing in her chamber, then?

“Stop,” she said, wincing and sitting back up, her legs crossed underneath the red blanket. “I understand your hesitation, but at least listen, and stop taunting me with my own confession. This is difficult enough under your glare, your obvious mistrust and hatred. But you…I wasn’t lying, Ulfric, when called you noble. Your decisions…noble, your heart pure. You sacrificed the safety of a nation to save a child – an Altmer child – from seeing her Altmer mother brutalized and killed. That’s something I’ve never forgotten.”

Ulfric’s stomach lurched, and he set his lantern down on a table and closed the door. Elenwen might be the only person in Skyrim who’d see that act as noble. _Gods, when everyone finds out_ …

He forced himself to look into her eyes. “Maybe you can convince me you’re telling the truth.”

Elenwen rose, and unlaced her gown, slowly, her fingers shaking as the purple silk fell open, exposing inch by lovely inch of smooth, golden skin. Months of peaceful sleep and adequate food had done wonders. Her cheeks glowed with a berries-and-cream blush, her breasts and hips curved lush and soft and rounded.

Ulfric’s eyes widened, and he drained the last dregs and let the jug fall to the ground. He tried to fight himself, clenching his jaw against his weakening resolve, but it was no use.

He tumbled her back down to the bed, kissing her lips and neck with an abandon that surprised even him. His heart raced, and he ripped his gloves off, slipping his scarred hands under her gown. Her soft skin caught on his fingers. _Claws, more like_. He pushed up, his eyes hardening, just a little.

Women had thrown themselves at Ulfric over the past two years. Opportunities to touch soft skin and kiss tender lips hadn’t been scarce. But those women hadn’t known why leather covered every inch of his skin, even his hands. Especially his hands, he thought, curling one knotted fist in front of his face.

Elenwen knew. _She…she made me this way_.

His head swam amid drink and sorrow, and Elenwen pulled him down once more, grinding her hips against his.

Ulfric felt her soft neck under his fingers, and watched Elenwen’s lips part in a crooked smile. Need pooled in his belly as she snaked a hand down to his leggings, her fingers slipping under the waistband.

A jagged bolt of fear shot through his spine and he pulled himself back. Sweet Talos, what was he thinking? He was still a man, desperate for companionship, warmth, even love. But sex? Impossible. He knew. Ulfric stared down at the woman still writhing on her sheets, one breast artfully peeking out from her purple gown. She knew it, too. _She made me this way_.

“What do you think’s going to happen here, witch?” He backhanded her, his head spinning as a drop of blood appeared on her lip. Her father hit her like that. _No, don’t think about it. Don’t_ …

“Ulfric?” Elenwen’s voice broke, and she raised a hand to her cheek. “Why?”

“Why? You were there,” Ulfric snarled, his teeth bared. The last shred of compassion fled his seething brain, replaced by boiling, white hot anger. _Good_. “You and your father. You know very well what you did to me. How did you think this was going to end? Did you fucking forget?” He tugged at the waist of his leggings, pulling them down an inch, the lantern light shining on silvery scars covering his abdomen. “Do you want to see it again? Revel in your handiwork?”

Elenwen’s eyes widened, and she sat up, the drop of blood on her lip running down her chin. “I did. I did forget. Oh gods, Ulfric. I’m-“

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” He backhanded her again, grinning as his fingernail caught smooth skin below her cheekbone. A small, red line appeared, and the blood spurred Ulfric on. Years of anger, fear, and loneliness erupted, and he pulled her up by the neck with one hand and slammed her against the brazen door, his other hand twisting in her hair. “You’re not sorry yet. But…“

Elenwen struggled in his grip for a minute, then stilled. She slumped.

Ulfric relaxed his hold for a second, and Elenwen took advantage of his hesitation and punched him in the stomach. A bolt of lightning streamed from her fingers. It grazed Ulfric’s arm as she ran. He fell, hitting his head on the table as he went down.

A flash of purple against the brazen door was all he remembered when he awoke the next morning to the worst hangover of his life, the shame of what he’d done like a knife in his gut. Ulfric asked around Markarth, but no one remembered seeing Elenwen flee, and after a week or two, she was forgotten by everyone but him.

 

* * *

  
“I’m sorry Ulfric,” Hrolfdir said. His torch cast shadows across the brazen doors of Understone Keep’s dungeon. “I truly am. But I had no choice.”

Ulfric looked up, not bothering to shield his eyes. The Empire had come last week to enforce the White Gold Concordat. Word had gotten out, the general shouted during his demand for entry into the city, that Talos worship had been permitted.

Ulfric huffed, his breath frosty in the chill cell. Markarth and The Reach under control of witches didn’t faze Istlod one bit, but worshipping the hero god of the Nords? Insulting the Dominion’s delicate sensibilities? Ulfric swore, and grinned at Hrolfdir’s flinch. “I’m sick and tired of hearing that from people who don’t mean it.”

“I do mean it. But I couldn’t risk my son and the citizens of the Reach. Not again. I had to open the doors.”

Ulfric bowed his head, exhaustion and shame edging out his anger. He’d gotten word yesterday that his own father had died. Hoag had been healthy, in his prime – had Ulfric’s actions been his undoing? And Ulfric still had no idea what had become of Elenwen after he’d assaulted her, and no idea how long he’d be stuck in this cage.

Skyrim had needed help, and Ulfric thought he’d been in the right. All he wanted to do was free Skyrim’s people, his people. But he’d been thwarted at every turn. “What you mean is that you have your city back, and no intention of losing it again. If all you have to offer is platitudes, you can go, Hrolfdir. I’m in no need of such things.”

The jarl nodded slowly and took his torch from the sconce. Ulfric braced himself for the darkness, but Hrolfdir paused with his back to the cells, the torchlight dancing in his hand.

Should he tell Ulfric about the woman? Their relationship had seemed almost cozy in the end. Maybe he’d want to know, but on the other hand… Hrolfdir sighed and cleared his throat. “The Altmer woman, Elenwen? The one who disappeared after we retook the city?”

Ulfric’s stomach leaped. Had she been found? Was she all right? He endeavored to keep his voice steady. “What about her?” More than two months had passed since she’d disappeared. Why was Hrolfdir only mentioning her now?

“She’s…she’s here, Ulfric. With the Dominion watchdogs. And her father, Lorcan. She was right. He’s First Emissary. The embassy is complete, and she’s going to be stationed here as his representative. Every hold city gets one,” Hrolfdir said, bitterly. “I haven’t spoken to her, but I’m surprised she’s back with her father after how he treated her. Do you think-“

“Just go,” Ulfric said, his fingers clenching around the bars of his cell. Hrolfdir was an idiot. _But I am, too_. He felt a Shout burning in the back of his throat, but it died as mortification and guilt racked his body. If Lorcan were in Markarth, it was only a matter of time before he told everyone what had happened, that Ulfric was responsible for the sack of the Imperial City.

And it was his own fault. He drove Elenwen back to her father. Would the Empire and the Dominion have noticed Markarth if he hadn’t? If he’d only controlled himself? No, he knew the answer to that question. And even as he knew it, he stilled, his blood churning through his veins. He deserved everything that happened to him. But Skyrim didn’t. Skyrim still deserved to be free. “Please. Just go.”

Ulfric leaned his head against the bars. All this work just to end up back in a cage, his beloved country whittled down to a glorified territory overnight. He thought back to Elenwen, that day she’d healed him, before her father had broken him and his brothers beyond repair. She’d looked at him, stared through him, her eyes hollow and haunted even then. He’d never forgotten her words, and now, years later, he thought he finally understood them.

 _Sometimes pain is just the beginning_.

 


	38. Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to Ulfric’s story, and we finally find out how Ralof came to be in front of Whiterun’s gates.

Embers crackled and smoked, overloud in the shocked silence of Dragonreach’s greatroom. Lena and Farkas leaned forward, their eyes wide, waiting for Ralof to continue. But the Stormcloak sat in silence, staring into his tankard.

“How can you stop there?” Lena threw up her hands, glancing around the table to see if everyone else sat on the edge of their seats. They did. “What happened? How did Ulfric get away? And Elenwen, did she really…she was playing Ulfric all that time? What about the head? Elenwen-”

Ralof ignored Lena’s spluttering and looked up from his tankard at Balgruuf. He’d taken a risk coming to Whiterun with the head of the Dominion’s First Emissary. But Ulfric had believed Balgruuf, above all others, would listen. Would understand. Ralof wasn’t convinced. The jarl seemed the very image of a pampered Imperial lickspittle, but Ulfric had been so sure...

Balgruuf leaned back in his chair, one finger tapping against his torc. “We knew Lorcan was crazy, we all did. He sang and…walked around naked during council meetings. What else could he be? That’s why his daughter replaced him as First Emissary so early in his term. But we didn’t know about…all that. And Elenwen,” Balgruuf said, grabbing his goblet, “was she…did she really…?”

Ralof narrowed his eyes and finally glanced around at Lena and Delphine. If they’d read the dossier they’d so casually tossed at Ulfric back at Labyrinthian, they knew. And after Ulfric’s message Ralof had delivered at the gate, they had to know how the story would end.

“Was she apologetic? Did she have feelings for Ulfric? Did Ulfric drive her back to dear old dad?” Ralof’s head shook in time with his laughter, bitter as he tried to hold back a surge of rage. Ulfric was… _gods_ , and these people still doubted his veracity. “If you’re having trouble deciding, try – just try – to imagine how Ulfric felt. He spent years raiding and slaughtering Thalmor. But what if she came down on the wrong side of his steel one random Middas? Would he apologize and fall at her feet, begging forgiveness? Would he run her through? Or both? Had to have driven him mad.”

“I can see where it would,” Balgruuf conceded. “That is, if he had any sanity remaining after everything they’d already done.”

“He didn’t want to be played for a fool. And would not admit the possibility. But,” Ralof said, “he didn’t want to be responsible for someone else’s pain, pain he inflicted because he lost control. Nord pride and honor, always.” He refilled his tankard from one of the bottles littering the long table. “But no, whatever Elenwen was up to, her real motivations, what was going on in that twisted head? He never knew. Until last month. Until we ran into your Companions at Labyrinthian.” He raised his tankard in Kodlak’s direction.

“Ran into?” Vilkas scoffed, fighting the urge to rise. “You stalked us, followed us to the back of fucking beyond, and tried to kidnap Lena.”

“I don’t deny it. We were driven by great need.” Ralof readily acknowledged Vilkas’s accusation with an incline of his head, and grinned at the Companion’s shocked expression. After all he’d done, the incident at Labyrinthian paled in comparison. He might as well come clean. “And though we didn’t leave with our prize, we didn’t leave empty-handed, did we?”

Ralof started to reach inside his tunic, but held his palms out when Balgruuf’s guards surrounded him. “I’m not going for a weapon, boys. I’m reaching for a book. Just a book.” At Balgruuf’s nod, he pulled a small leather volume from his pocket. “Here’s what we took away from that encounter. Days, months, years from now, when we’re waking up in a new Skyrim, just remember: it all started with a little, beat-up book.”

He slid the notebook across the table and Balgruuf put out a hand, stopping it before it knocked his goblet into his lap. “Read it. Ulfric endured torture of his own body and those of his friends, his family. He sacrificed those same friends and family freeing the Reach. For the good of Skyrim, he believed. And he’s killed countless sons of Skyrim during this decades-long war, over... well, just open it,” he said, when Balgruuf continued to stare, “and imagine how Ulfric felt upon reading those words.”

 _How can a book change anything? Change my mind about what Ulfric’s done?_ But Balgruuf finally nodded and looked at the cover. His face fell, but he splayed his palm across the volume and stared back at Ralof. “First things first: explain yourself. What’s this about kidnapping?”

Ralof coughed, and took a moment for a drink. He had the good grace to look sheepish, stealing a glance down the table toward Lena. “Ulfric knew a dragonborn had been called because of the Greybeards’ summons. He set people to watch at Ivarstead, for any unusual traffic up and down the mountain. The second time we saw her and the Companions making the trip, we knew. We traced her steps to Whiterun, just to be sure, and went back to tell Ulfric what we found. When our scouts in Winterhold spotted her at the College, they sent a missive to Ulfric, and we followed their direction. Sure enough, we intercepted them at Labyrinthian.”

“So you found them. And…”

“We only wanted to recruit the dragonborn to the Stormcloak cause. It made sense to Ulfric. He could use the Voice, and so could she. They both were nearly killed at Helgen, so he assumed she felt about the Empire the way he did. As you can see, that effort failed.”

Balgruuf sighed, and after another baleful glare at Ralof, finally opened the book. His eyes flickered back and forth across the pages, and after a minute or two, he slammed it closed and swiped a hand down his face. _All this time_ …

“Where did he get this? Elenwen’s dossier on one of her more useful _assets_ ,” he said, his mouth twisting around the word, “wouldn’t be easy to come by.”

Ralof tilted his chin toward Delphine and leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head. “She gave it to him. Humble innkeeper? Mercenary? Errant knight? Oh, no. Did you know, Jarl Balgruuf, that you’re in the presence of one of the noble and ancient order of Blades? Grandmaster of the Blades, to be specific? Your dragonborn’s been holding out, if your expression’s any indication. Don’t feel too bad, she’s had everyone fooled for a while now.”

Balgruuf looked to his left between Lena and Delphine, raising his brows. The twins avoided his eyes, but Kodlak nodded, his fingers steepled under his long beard. So it was true. Wheels turned in his head, but his plans would have to wait. He turned a page and quoted: “ _’He was made to believe information obtained during his interrogation was crucial in the capture of the Imperial City (the city had in fact fallen before he had broken) and then allowed to escape._ ’”

He turned another page and stared at Ralof, questions burning in his fierce, blue eyes. “ _’After the war, contact was established and he has proven his worth as an asset. The so-called Markarth Incident was particularly valuable from the point of view of our strategic goals in Skyrim, although it resulted in Ulfric becoming generally uncooperative to direct contact._ ’” Balgruuf tapped the page with his fist. “And you say Elenwen found Ulfric just before the Markarth Incident, and encouraged him. Lived with him. So that means-”

“Maybe she orchestrated the Markarth Incident? Right in one,” Ralof said, clenching his fists behind his head. Balgruuf seemed to be listening, but Ralof was tired of being pushed to the side. “She encouraged Ulfric to expel the Reachmen. Use Hrolfdir’s debt to demand free worship of Talos. So the Empire and the Dominion could go in and smack him right back down. Elenwen knew what would happen.”

Ralof slammed his feet back on the ground, his fingers gripping the table. “The Empire came with bells on to persecute Nords whose only crime was to live as they chose. To worship freely as Nords have for generations. For _that_? Oh, they came running. But did they lift a finger to help the Reach when witches invaded? Occupied one of Skyrim’s richest holds for _two years?_ Did they help when – when Ulfric and his men were torn apart back in Bruma? No,” Ralof spat. “They sided with those monsters. Hrolfdir too, after he’d pledged his support to Ulfric’s cause. How could Ulfric rejoin the Empire’s fold, and be a good boy after that? Elenwen knew what it meant for Skyrim. She knew.”

Balgruuf turned his eyes back to Delphine. “And you gave this to Ulfric? Why in the gods’ names would you think that was a good idea?”

Delphine straightened and glowered at Ralof. “Ulfric threatened Lena. And the rest of us. I had no idea how far he’d go. So I gambled. I thought it might give us an edge, to be honest. Thought maybe once he knew what the Dominion had done, that he was playing right into their hands, he’d-“

“He’d what? Give up the rebellion? Say sorry?” Balgruuf barked out a cold and angry laugh, and Lena leaned a little closer to Farkas as he continued. “You provided evidence his entire life was a lie. That he was nothing more than a - a tool for the Dominion to use and throw away. That he’d been a fool. Did you think he’d be grateful for that knowledge? That Elenwen had duped him into endangering thousands of people he’d sworn to protect? That he’d instigated a rebellion that pitted generations of Nords against Nords, all at a flick of her golden fingers?”

“If I’d known about Elenwen, how personal she’d made it,” Delphine conceded, her head bowed, “I might have done things differently. But he did threaten to take Lena by force. It was-”

“I know. A difficult situation. But you don’t know Ulfric like I do,” Balgruuf said, pushing back from the table to pace in front of the firepit. “We didn’t meet until the war, but brothers in arms grow close in no time at all. He was in my unit for awhile. I remember once – we had to be no more than eighteen – he hesitated during a mission and cost the unit one life. Just one. No one blamed him, it was an easy mistake to make, easy to forgive. But not for Ulfric.”

For weeks afterward, Ulfric had awakened long before dawn to train and study, provoking the largest and fiercest to fight him. It was the only way he’d improve, he’d insisted. The only way he’d be worthy. The only way he’d be able to protect those under his command. Balgruuf shivered at the memory of Ulfric’s wounds, his blood mixing with mud and pouring rain night after night.

“Yet you blamed him easily enough for the sack of the Imperial City.” Ralof shook his head and glowered up at the jarl.

“We were told it was true,” Balgruuf said, and shrugged, although his expression belied the casual gesture. “Lorcan…knowing what I know now, it’s obvious... But he swore Ulfric volunteered the information to save himself, not others. The details and specifics were convincing. And Hrolfdir corroborated. Said Ulfric told him in confidence.”

“But even so,” Ralof countered, “even if he’d done _exactly that_ , how do you know you wouldn’t have broken to save yourself? I told you what they did to him. I don’t know any Soldiers who would have lasted so long. Myself included, if I’m being honest.”

Lena cleared her throat. She didn’t want to defend Ulfric after what he’d tried with her. She didn’t like how he treated citizens of Skyrim who didn’t happen to be Nords. And if his mismanagement of Windhelm was any indication, Ulfric had been an incompetent jarl and would have made a dismal king. But he deserved to have his name back. “Ulfric trained for years with the Greybeards. It takes great strength and will to channel the Voice if you’re not dragonborn, from what the monks told me. I’m willing to bet no one, no matter how brave or loyal, could have withstood as long as he did,” she said, her cheeks pink and her eyes downcast. “I know I didn’t.”

Farkas grunted and scooted closer to Lena, wrapping his arm around her and whispering in her ear. Ralof had no idea what that was all about, but if the dragonborn, the celebrated Dovahkiin, understood what Ulfric had gone through, chances were looking up that Balgruuf and eventually the other jarls would listen. And act.

Balgruuf stared into his goblet, for a minute or two. The fire crackled, again, loud in the heavy silence. He finally nodded and looked up at no one in particular. “I suppose...I was young, and convinced of my own immortality. And strength. Was I not a true Nord? Couldn’t the strength of true Nords outlast any torment? And if so, why couldn’t Ulfric? We all just…stopped thinking about it. It became law. Doctrine. Ulfric was a coward, a weakling, a traitor.”

Idly stirring the embers with an iron poker, he continued thinking aloud, a sad smile ghosting across his face. “He was brought up on the same stories and legends, you know. Drank songs of Nord pride and honor like mother’s milk. After all he’d been through, Ulfric couldn’t have returned home. The Empire might have accepted him, but he’d begged enough. Cried enough. He couldn’t go back to those who’d sided with the Dominion. And yet, he’d assaulted a woman he had feelings for, no matter the circumstances. He couldn’t just go home to his palace and pretend nothing had happened. He’d promised Nords – Skyrim – freedom from Dominion control. A king who cared for his people more than he cared for power. Freedom to worship as they chose. An honorable man wouldn’t – couldn’t – go back on those promises.”

Ralof sat back in his chair again, stunned. Damned if Ulfric hadn’t been right about Balgruuf. For all his allegiance to the Empire, he did seem to understand at least a little of what Ulfric had been through. The reasons he’d rebelled – good and bad. But would Balgruuf _act_? Or would he, as he had at the end of the Great War, take the path of least resistance? Soon, he’d have to make a choice – everyone would. Ulfric had made sure of that.

“You’re right,” Balgruuf said, pointing at Ralof, “Elenwen knew what would happen. Ulfric didn’t care if he was branded a rebel and a traitor. At that point, what did it matter? If he was a monster, so be it. He’d be the monster who freed his country, and that was enough for him. Skyrim’s Civil War’s been brewing for generations. Fallout from Markarth just made it an inevitability.”

He walked back over to the table and flattened his palms on the surface. “Tell me what happened with Elenwen. I need to know everything. Every detail, no matter how…incriminating.”

“After Labyrinthian, Ulfric didn’t speak the whole way back to Windhelm,” Ralof said, glancing up and down the table. All eyes were on him. Even the jarl’s guards were listening. “Instead of regrouping and planning our next move, he locked himself in the temple for a week. When he came out, starving and red-eyed, he told me the story I just told you. And showed me that book.”

“We left Windhelm and traveled across the Pale, Haafingar, and Hjallmarch, collecting every Stormcloak we could find along the way. Once we got close to the Thalmor Embassy, we cut around to the west. Ulfric knew a secret entrance through some cave. I don’t know how he knew. He never said. Dead dark of night, scouts went in through the cave. The main cohort hid in the woods, waiting on Ulfric’s signal,” Ralof said, staring at the jarl’s hands on the table. The rest of his story would be difficult enough to get through, and he wasn’t sure he could look at anyone without breaking down.

“Once the justiciars and their guards were engaged, it was a slaughter. We did the one thing they never expected. How could they? Who had the balls or the means for a direct attack? Elenwen surely told everyone Ulfric was no real threat. And he wasn’t – he had, what did she write? ‘ _Furthered our strategic goals in Skyrim_ ,’ so they were content to ignore him, for the most part. He wasn’t on their field of vision any longer.”

Lena watched Ralof take a drink. She’d never been to the embassy and hadn’t heard any stories about it. But it had to be guarded to the teeth. The loss of life must have been enormous, she thought. Although she couldn’t bring herself to feel sad for Elenwen or the rest of the Dominion. If they’d only stayed out of Skyrim, they might still be alive.

Ralof heard a low chuff from Lena’s end of the table and looked up, not surprised to see her lips curved in a small, cruel, and motivating smile. He remembered the day they’d first met, the three of them sitting in the executioner‘s cart, just waiting for the end. In his wildest dreams, he’d never imagined a day like this: lowly prisoners sharing mead in the house of a jarl, on the eve of the turning of their world. He took another drink and pressed on.

“The main cohort barricaded the front door of Elenwen’s residence, and the secret entrance from the cave led to her rooms, through her own, private torture chamber, of course. Her ‘ _solar_ ,’ she called it. Did you know the woman terrorizing Skyrim – keeping us all under the Dominion’s thumb – has a torture chamber under her bedroom?” His voice dripped bitterness, and as he glanced up at Balgruuf, the jarl stared into the firepit, his eyes shadowed and shuttered. “Some things never change, I guess.”

“Well, we surprised her in her _solar_ , me and Ulfric and a few others. Once we had her down and she knew her number was up, she sang like a bird, I can only guess as a last-ditch pass. Maybe if Ulfric got mad enough, he’d be easily distracted. So, yeah, she’d tortured him willingly, fooled him into thinking she was a victim the whole time. Tried to seduce him, _knowing_ …” Ralof swore, and swallowed his rage yet again. “The letter accusing Madanach of killing Nords in Markarth? The pitiful death threat and poison plants? Sent on her orders. That woman did everything she could to break Ulfric – physically, mentally, spiritually – in the slowest play I’ve ever seen. Then again, Altmer live long lives. She might well have been playing a game of chess.”

“Anyway, once Ulfric heard it from her mouth, saw the ridicule in her eyes, he sort of…broke again. I could see it in his face. She did too. She hit him with lightning, but his Shout was quicker this time, and his sword followed just as quickly. And you saw the result,” Ralof said, tilting his head back toward the entrance to the dungeon, where Elenwen’s head slowly rotted in a bed of straw at the back of a dark cell.

Before continuing, Ralof heaved a deep, ragged sigh and pressed his fingers into tearing eyes. “He passed me that…that _thing_. And told me to get the troops out, as many as I could, send them home. He said to come here, he knew it was a risk for me, but…for Skyrim, it was a risk I needed to take. To come here and bring that. And tell you this: ‘ _remember what we argued about during the war. I was right, and it’s time to put it to the test. And you were right, the gods can take care of themselves.’_ He made me repeat it over and over. He said you’d know what he meant.”

Balgruuf hung his head, staring at the table he still leaned against. He’d been using his pose to tower over Ralof, to control the conversation. To intimidate. But now, he wasn’t sure he could stand without it. “Why didn’t he leave with you?”

Once Balgruuf spoke the words, everyone froze. Even the fire seemed to still, its embers darkening and smoke dissipating through the heavy air. Everyone had known Ulfric was more than likely dead. Under the cloud of Ralof’s arrival, how could the story have ended another way? Even so, it hadn’t seemed real, until now.

In the silence, Lena imagined she could hear Thalmor lightning, and hear their haughty voices ringing with laughter. Soon, they’d come seeking revenge, seeking a way to recover their power, their footing in a province they intended to rule. And they’d not take defeat lightly. Did Ulfric know this? Had he forced their hands? And why had Ralof asked for her at the gate, and _only_ her? Well, the Stormcloak would be in town for the duration of whatever washed up in the wake of Ulfric’s last stand, so she’d ask him. Eventually.

“He was never coming home. I should have known. Looking in his eyes, I should have…you said it yourself. His life was a lie. How many people died because of his actions? And not foreigners, far away in the Imperial City, after all, but in the Reach, Eastmarch…his own people. I should have known,” Ralof whispered, tears streaming down his face. He swiped at them with his cowl, smearing more soot and dirt on his cheeks and forehead.

“While we’d cornered Elenwen, our troops were fighting outside, setting fire to anything could burn. We heard screams and ran out. The main building was a shambles, just a sheet of flame, and her roof – her quarters didn’t have long. I turned and started to run, but Ulfric wasn’t beside me. Wasn’t there. I saw him through the smoke, still on the stairs. He saluted, and just sort of ambled back inside. I tried to run in after him. I _tried_!”

Ulfric’s lieutenant screamed and hid his face in his hands, his body racked with sobs. No one looked away or dismissed Ralof as a weakling. Nords prided themselves on their stoic natures by day. Wounds healed and hunger would eventually abate – no whining allowed.

But when the darkness of grief and heartache fell upon them, their mourning flowed like a bard’s song, or a cleansing storm. “Gods, I tried. But he Shouted me down. Out in the snow. I could barely see his silhouette in the entryway. The fire…everything collapsed, and he was gone. Just…gone.”

Slowly, Balgruuf stepped on to the platform leading to his throne, and sat heavily down in the ornately-carved chair, his hand curved over his mouth. His back rose and fell in deep, calming breaths. Ralof was right – the sun wouldn’t rise over the same Skyrim tomorrow morning. _And it shouldn’t_. Irileth had picked quite a time to visit family down in Falkreath. He’d have to call her back, and soon.

“Proventus,” he said at last, calling his steward from where he sat near the foot of the table, “engage eight couriers. The fastest you can find, get them here soonest. Pay whatever you have to.”

Proventus nodded and stood, anxious to complete his task, but paused as the jarl held out his hand.

“Wait,” Balgruuf reconsidered, swallowing and taking one last heaving breath. “If we’re going to do this, we’re doing it right. Ten…no, eleven couriers.” He nodded to Proventus, who fairly skipped from the room, and then turned to Kodlak. “And I’m going to need to borrow your Companions.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elenwen’s joining Ulfric and plotting the Markarth Incident was inspired by a redditor called docclox. He or she wrote an amazing entry for teslore about Ulfric’s “fatal flaw” called “The Pride of Ulfric Stormcloak,” and if you haven’t read it yet, you should. It’s fantastic. I read (maybe too much) about Ulfric prior to writing this and my other Ulfric-centric story just to imagine what made him tick, and the idea that Elenwen herself follows him and continues breaking him long after he thought he was as broken as he could be is intriguing. And honestly, extremely likely, especially for someone long-lived, and ambitious, and up-and-coming. I mean, she didn’t get to be First Emissary by sitting on her fourth point of contact, right?
> 
> Of course, I took some liberties with lore and characters, but I hope it’s a satisfying setup to the next phase of the story. And yes, for those of you who’ve been disappointed that it’s veered away from Lena and Farkas, the story will be getting back to normal next chapter. I know it was a risk doing this, but the Civil War had to come into play at some point, and I didn’t like either side in the game. I didn’t like Season Unending, either, but I guess that’s what fanfic’s for.


	39. The Night Is Ours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Farkas remembers a story from years ago, and he takes Lena camping.

 

**4E 195, Rain’s Hand**

The makeshift firepit on the verandah crackled and hissed. Roasting apples rested against the iron rim, their skins wrinkling and splitting in the heat, and embers glowed red beneath black charred wood. Farkas stared into the flames, mesmerized by sparks and ash and cedar-scented smoke soaring toward the clear, starry sky.

Vignar’s voice called out over the company. It sounded like gravel grinding under Farkas’s boot, but he loved hearing it all the same. “What story tonight, friends?”

Farkas glanced across the yard, his eyes automatically searching for his brother, but Vilkas paid no attention to Vignar, preferring to flirt with one of the new recruits instead. The recruit – Juli, Farkas thought her name – shrugged off Vilkas’s winks and whispered words, and called out a suggestion. “How about ‘Spring in the Wood of Skies?’”

Conversation dulled, and all eyes turned to stare in the direction of her voice. Farkas’s brows rose and he leaned back on his palms, his fingers curving around the edges of the floorboards. He had to admire the recruit’s confidence. Not only did she speak out – unusual for a newbie – but she suggested a romance. And not just any romance, but one set in a magical wood. He watched for Vignar’s response.

The old man nodded, and chuckled under his breath. “One we’ve not told in some time. But it is that time of year, after all,” he said, glancing around the yard and pushing his breeze-blown hair off his forehead, tying the unruly silver mass with a leather thong. He chuckled again at the expectant looks on the faces of those around him – warriors all, but reluctant dreamers, too. Not a one among them didn’t dream of finding love, he mused, rolling his eyes at Vilkas’s skeptical smirk. _And keeping it._ “In the northwest hold, there’s a wood, and in that wood, a clearing. In winter, a day’s travel might get you there, but only two or three hours once the snow’s melted and the weather’s fine. And spring…yes, spring’s the time to go.”

Farkas looked back to Vilkas, amused at his sudden fascination with the story in light of his new flame’s obvious interest. Vilkas watched Vignar like an explorer might study a butterfly under a glass.

“There’s a hot spring sheltered on all sides by juniper and snowberry shrubs. Birches, barely sprouting pale green leaves, haven’t yet formed their summer canopy. Masser and Secunda stay below the horizon until early morning, so the sky – oh! The sky’s open and big as life and as bright as the stars want it to be,” Vignar said, the cadence of his gravelly voice rising and falling with the story.

Farkas thought the place he described sounded familiar – he knew of only one hot spring that wasn’t in Eastmarch, just to the south of an ancient barrow called Dustman’s Cairn. A pretty place, yes. But the Wood of Skies? Sounded a little too poetic to him, for a simple clearing in the woods.

But Vignar continued, and Farkas found himself lost to the story, poetic or not. “One early spring afternoon, two lovers happened upon the wood. They’d become lost in an unseasonal storm…”

“ _I’m worried, Jorg. It’s been two days, and we’ve not found our village,” Jen said, stumbling a little over a gnarled root. “We’re lost.”_

_“Of course we’re lost, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find our way again,” Jorg said, taking Jen’s hand and steadying her gait. He was worried, too. They’d not found food other than underripe berries, and very little fresh water. It was too early in spring for snowmelt to fill the myriad creeks and streams throughout the hold, and another day without water would prove dangerous. “There’s no need to give up-“_

_A sudden salty breeze caught his attention, and he sniffed the air._ Warm _. “Do you smell that?”_

_Jen sniffed. “A hot spring? I don’t know of any that aren’t in Eastmarch. Surely that storm didn’t knock us so far off course?”_

_Jorg and Jen skipped ahead through the birches, junipers and snowberry shrubs, their hunger and thirst momentarily forgotten. A minute or two later, the trees gave way to a clearing, and a humid, salt-scented breeze blew soft on their faces. Jorg grinned, and pointed to flat, polished rocks surrounding a green, bubbling pool. “You’re the alchemist. Are…are those jazbay?”_

_Jen shuddered and knelt next to the water, examining deep purple berries and sage-green leaves. She knew jazbay grew in profusion around hot springs, their roots loving the mineral rich, volcanic soil, but it never hurt to be cautious. She looked up, her eyes shining with relieved tears. “I’ve never been so happy to see grapes in all my life.”_

_After they’d eaten enough to dull the ache in their bellies, they explored a little nearby, finding a fresh waterfall – almost an answer to a prayer. “Let’s stay here for the night, Jen,” Jorg said. “We can rest, and eat and drink more in the morning. We’ll almost definitely make better time. I can set a ward around the spring while we sleep.”_

_Jen smiled and nodded. “Good idea. I didn’t want to complain, love, but I’m just about dead on my feet.”_

_“I know. You don’t usually stumble over tree roots, darling,” Jorg said, relived his wife agreed to his proposal so easily. Grapes and water notwithstanding, he had no idea where they were or how to get back to their village. A routine expedition to find potion ingredients had turned into a life-threatening journey, and Jorg lambasted himself, not for the first time, for his serious lack of woodsmanship._

_But no matter – their luck had turned, and Jorg smiled at his wife, helping her undress and step into the pool, the hot, salty water washing tension and soreness from their muscles. Comfortable and warm for the first time in days, within moments they fell fast asleep. When they awoke, the sun had painted the western horizon in stripes of purple, blue, pink, and gold, but Jorg and Jen had eyes only for each other._

_Surrounded by soft, caressing waters, the lovers did as lovers will do, and forgot their troubles, their tiredness and hunger, forgot everything but the warmth of their skin and the softness of their lips. And when Jen threw her head back in the throes of passion, the stars that met her eyes seemed to twinkle just for her._

_Jorg kissed Jen once more and snuggled her in his lap. She leaned her head in the crook of her neck and gazed up at the sky. The aurora were out, dancing amid the stars and washing the night in shades of green and pink and violet. “I’m sorry, love,” Jorg said, kissing Jen’s temple and brushing damp curls off her face. “Sorry for getting us lost. I’m sure we’ll find our way tomorrow.”_

_Jen wrapped her arms around her husband and snorted. “It’s not your fault anymore than it is mine. I chose to veer from the road – everywhere I looked, there seemed to be a bigger juniper, or another bird’s nest, or more dartwings. And we’re so low on potions…”_

_“Well, spring is here, and we’re in this amazing place, so I have to believe better things are coming soon. Tell me, Jen,” Jorg said, glancing around the clearing. “What do you wish? What is your greatest hope?”_

_Jen grinned into Jorg’s chest. “That’s easy. That we find our way. Not just back to our village, although that’s important too. But…a place of our own, where we’re needed and loved and not feared. Remember when we came back from Winterhold? No one knew what to do with us – a healer and an alchemist. ‘_ Our healers have always been Kyne-blessed, not College-trained. _’ Even our parents didn’t want us to go in the first place, and-“_

_“I know, I remember. A home for us, a place where we belong. That’s my dream, as well.”_

_The stars seemed to change, just then. Some twinkled and faded from view, while others shone brighter. And the aurora swirled and lengthened, its lines forming what looked like patterns on a map – rivers, roads, and mountains._

Farkas leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and the nails of one hand clenched between his teeth. He’d heard the story before, but not since he was a child, and couldn’t remember what happened. Would they get home? Why’d they go to the College in the first place? The stars and aurora – were they really changing or were those berries something a little more potent than jazbay? He wanted to interrupt and ask Vignar, but managed to keep quiet and wait – a difficult task.

_Jen and Jorg stared, and finally, Jen cleared her throat. “Am I seeing things, or…”_

_Jorg nodded. “It’s a map,” he said, and shook his head. “I- it can’t be. But it looks like a map. Look, here’s where we are.” He pointed to a green swirl overhead. “And there’s the river snaking off to the west. And up there, the mountains to the north of our village. See that other swirl? Labyrinthian. Our village is at its foot.”_

_“But, that bright pulsing star to the southeast. That’s Riverwood, unless I miss my guess. If that other, large star is Whiterun. And it has to be, that huge peak can be nothing but the Throat of the World.”_

_Jorg shrugged. “You’re right. But why…why Riverwood?”_

_“Why not Riverwood?” Jen laughed and threw her arms up toward the stars. “We have to be seeing things, here. Magical stars? A map in the skies telling us how to get home? Impossible. But then again, we were making wishes...”_

_“On wishing stars?” Jorg sighed. “Imagine if it were true. We should be dreaming big, then.”_

_“Our dreams have never been big, darling,” Jen said, climbing out of the pool and drying off on the warm stones. “We don’t need that. Just a place where they’ll welcome us, where we could have a home and a shop and help people – that’s the only reason we left for Winterhold in the first place.”_

_“It is a beautiful dream,” Jorg said, joining Jen. It wasn’t long before they were both dry, dressed, and curled up on a bed of soft moss at the edge of the rocks. “We don’t have supplies for a trip to Riverwood, though. As long as we’re wishing, let’s add that to the mix.”_

_Jen kissed Jorg goodnight and nodded. “Done,” she said and snuggled back against his chest, letting his arm and their capes enfold her. Tired eyelids fell upon tired eyes, and the stars blurred and darkened._  
  
“Jorg.”

_Jen’s voice jogged him out of sleep, and strangely comfortable sleep for a mossy bed. He opened his eyes and saw she wasn’t beside him, and yawned and sat up. His eyes adjusted to the morning light, and there she was, kneeling on the rocks next to a knapsack._

_“What is that?”_

_“I was hoping you could tell me,” Jen said, holding the knapsack open to display its contents. A blanket, large enough for two. Healing potions. Bread and cheese and apples. A full waterskin._

_Jorg opened his mouth, and when no sound came out, he shut it again, and grinned._

_Jen nodded, took a bite out of one of the apples, and tossed it to her husband. “Riverwood it is, then.”_

_The journey was easier than they’d expected. No storms, no rain. The ground firm under their feet, they made excellent time. The guardpost of Riverwood stood out in stark relief against the violet dusky sky when they arrived, and with nothing else to guide them, Jorg and Jen headed to the middle of town, where a large crowd had gathered outside what looked to be an inn, or tavern._

_Jorg walked to stand next to a large blond man covered in soot. Must be the blacksmith. “What’s going on?”_

_The man jumped a little, startled, and turned to nod at Jorg and Jen. “Passing through, eh? Well, you should pass on through. We’ve a sickness here, and no healers. Apothecary left to try his luck in Solitude before winter set in. We’ve sent for a healer from Whiterun, but no luck yet. Maybe they’ve got the same sickness.”_

_Jen stared at the blacksmith, and then turned to stare at Jorg, a quivering smile on her lips. Jorg swallowed and nodded and rolled up his sleeves. “Well, time to get to work.”_

Vignar’s last words echoed under the silent verandah, accompanied only by the snapping fire. And then, a loud snort. Farkas broke out of his trance and rolled his eyes – Vilkas.

“So you’re expecting us to believe there’s a mystical, magical wood,” Vilkas said, waving his hands around. “And the aurora and even the stars knew Riverwood needed a healer? And the wood stashed supplies in a tree trunk somewhere just waiting for these guys to pass through?” He snorted again and turned to look at Juli.

Looks like the end of that, Farkas thought, watching Vilkas’s smile drain from his face at Juli’s withering look. Vilkas hadn’t tried – really tried – with any woman since Adrianne, six long summers ago. The steward’s daughter-turned-town blacksmith had grown sick of Vilkas’s games and married a hunter from Eastmarch instead. And that, on top of their taking the beastblood and Lena’s...disappearance, kept Vilkas from taking anyone seriously, or sticking with one person for more than a night or two.

The company stared between Vilkas and Vignar, and finally the old man snorted in return. “Shoot, lad. I don’t expect you to believe a damned thing. It’s a story. The truth of it? Well, I don’t know. I’ve never taken a love to the woods and don’t know anyone who has. And if they have, they’ve kept mum about the whole thing. I’ll make you a deal though,” Vignar said, a smirk curving the creases of his tanned face. “If you ever find someone who can put up with your shit long enough, take her there and see. And let me know what happens.”

After the company’s laughter died down, Farkas cleared his throat. “I’ve heard of stranger things.”

Vignar fixed Farkas with a level look. “Aye, and that’s true, indeed. I’m of a mind you’ll be in the position to test the Wood of Skies before your brother does, so maybe you can let me know.”

Everyone laughed again, and Vignar held his hand up for silence. He took a bite out of a drippy roasted apple and grinned, wiping sticky juice from his beard. “So who’s next? Anyone got another request?”

 

* * *

 

 

**PRESENT DAY**

Lena opened her eyes and sat straight up in bed. Morning streamed in through the windows and, for the first time since she and Farkas bought Breezehome, the sunlight wasn’t a shock. The place finally felt like home. She heard footsteps and laughter outside, and the door clicked shut downstairs. Something thudded on the floorboards, and Lena realized what had pulled her from sleep – Farkas must have gone out early. She pulled on a tunic and leggings and climbed down the ladder.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Farkas said, pulling an apple from his tunic pocket and handing it to her. “Carlotta says hi, by the way.”

“Thanks,” Lena said, taking a bite from the apple and handing it back to Farkas, “I’ll run by later. What were you doing out so early?”

“Went to see Kodlak, see if he knew anything more about Balgruuf’s plans. You know, timeframes and all. He said he’d need us, last night, that he needed to ‘borrow’ us. And use you as bait to get all the other jarls to come here, to Dragonsreach. I wanted to know when we’d be needed, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Why not? I like to know what to expect, when possible.”

“You should have married differently then,” she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss his scruffy cheek. “Not that I’d have let you go, but…”

“I didn’t have any choice where you were concerned,” Farkas said, folding her in his arms and grinning into her black curls. “But Kodlak’s not sure what Balgruuf’s planning. He’s not telling anyone until the couriers come back.”

“Makes sense, I suppose. I mean, this is going to bring everything to a head. Ulfric-“ Lena broke off and walked to the kitchen, taking another bite of the apple on her way. “Remember in Shalidor’s Maze? Delphine asked if maybe they should have just assassinated Ulfric, stopped the war that way.”

“Wouldn’t have stopped it. Rebels would have found another leader. But this? Ulfric wasn’t assassinated. He sort of…martyred himself. I don’t think that was what he planned, or maybe he did. But he sure did provide Skyrim with a rallying point. If Solitude....”

Lena started a carafe of coffee, and Farkas leaned back against the wall, bumping his head against it a few times to jog himself out of his thoughtful daze. “But that’s not why I went to see Kodlak, not to talk about that.”

“I thought –“ Lena squinted and looked back in Farkas’s direction. “But didn’t you just say –“

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to talk about that, all the…details and plans and worries. I asked Kodlak if we could leave.”

Lena stared at him, trying to work out what he might be planning, and he jerked his thumb back toward the door. “He said it was ok, and I brought supplies.”

Lena looked where he gestured, and remembered the thumping noise after the door closed. She saw bedrolls and all the camping gear he’d left at Jorrvaskr. “We’re going camping? Seriously? Kodlak said that was ok?”

“It’s Morndas. Kodlak says be back Middas, by noon.” Farkas took the cup Lena handed him and sipped. “Yesterday was hard on you. It was hard on us all, but…we need this. You know it.”

Lena stared at him again, and a smile slowly stretched across her face. She felt a million pounds lighter. “Where did you have in mind?”

* * *

 

By the time the sun rose midway into a clear, blue sky, they were headed northwest, each carrying a backpack. The ruined western watchtower brought back hazy memories of the start of all the dragonborn mess, but Lena pushed it from her mind. A warm, gentle breeze scented the air with honey and flowers and just a hint of mountain ice, and they weren’t in Jorrvaskr, where Vilkas and Kodlak waited for word from the jarl. And they weren’t in Dragonsreach, where Ralof waited in a dungeon for news of his fate, and Jarl Balgruuf waited on the fate of Skyrim. She couldn’t thank Farkas enough for realizing she needed this, and for making it happen. “So where is this place?”

“Not far from where we went for your trial. Just a little south of Dustman’s Cairn.”

“Really? It took hours and hours to get there. You said it’d just take two, today. We’d be there by lunchtime.”

“Well,” Farkas drawled, and ruffled Lena’s hair, “back then, there was already a few inches of snow on the ground and bears trying to get their last meals before hibernation, so it took a lot longer. We can cut across the land, so…”

“So…what’s there? Just a nice camping spot?”

“Oh, you’ll see. I’ve been wanting to take you here for years.” Farkas grinned and took Lena’s hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing it.

Lena laughed. She’d laughed a few times over the last six months, but never this freely or with a lighter heart, and Farkas’s own heart leaped at the sound. If it took him the rest of his life, he’d make sure Lena laughed like that for the rest of hers. After they took care of all the dragons, of course. Or maybe during – Farkas did dream big, after all.

“For years, hm? Well,” Lena said, skipping to a run and pulling Farkas behind her, both of them laughing and breathless across the green, rolling hills, “we don’t want to wait any longer!”

After another hour of running and hiking and a few minutes of rolling among pink and purple wildflowers, Lena walked on rocky ground, and a warm and humid breeze caressed her skin. Willowy birches sprouting tiny green leaves bordered a sun-dappled clearing. She looked at Farkas, and he nodded straight ahead.

Lena took a deep breath of juniper and salt-scented air and threw her arms out wide. “A hot spring? You brought me to a hot spring?” The green, shallow pool bubbled white in the middle, and the salty steam felt soft in Lena’s nostrils. She strolled around the shoreline, really more of a rocky shelf, and marveled.

“Yeah, well, there’s larger ones in Eastmarch. This one is just…special,” Farkas said, shading his eyes from the sun and watching hawks wheel over the nearby plains.

“It is special,” Lena said, and moved her pack to one shoulder. “Do you want to set the tent up now or just jump in?”

“Let’s set up now,” Farkas said, taking her pack and lowering it to the ground. He opened his own and pulled out tent stakes and canvas. “I have no intention of doing any work after soaking for hours in that water.”

They raised the tent on a patch of soft moss next to the rocks. “Is this area pretty private?” Lena walked back from setting wards around the clearing and started unbuckling her leather traveling armor. “ _I_ don’t have any intention of going in these pools clothed. I can set runes around the clearing while we’re sleeping or…otherwise indisposed, if you think it’s a good idea.”

“That’s one of the reasons I wanted to come to this one, instead of one in Eastmarch – not to mention the travel time, right? Between the junipers and snowberries and trees, no one can see in. And this pool gets used by hunters, mostly, and it’s too early in the spring for that, yet. So we have it to ourselves.”

“Good,” Lena said, her voice muffled under the tunic she yanked over her head. “Have you been here before?”

“I have,” he said. Lena could hear his clothing rustling and his scuffling feet. She grinned, imagining him hopping around, struggling to keep his balance while removing his leggings. “It was after you…well, after you left. A hunting trip, just before winter, so not as much fun as this.”

Lena felt a tug at her curls, loose for the first time in ages. _Damn buttons._ “Babe, can you help? There’s a button tangled in my hair.”

She felt his smirk and her face reddened a little under her tunic, knowing how silly she must look – naked, with fabric wrapped around her head. “Stop.”

“What?” Lena heard Farkas pad up behind her, and her stomach quivered as the wiry hair on his chest and torso tickled her back. She leaned into him. He gently unwrapped her curls from the button. “I would _never_ …”

Lena pulled the damn thing off her head and threw it over a snowberry bush. Farkas wrapped his arms around her, and she fell back against his chest, gazing out at mountains to the north, stark white against the bright blue sky. Farkas swept her hair over one shoulder and kissed the back of her neck, and Lena gathered his hands in hers. “Mmmmm….I could get used to this.”

“Me too. But I want to get used to _that_ ,” he said, swinging Lena up in a cradle carry and stepping with her into the pool. He eased down onto a shallow ledge, and Lena swung a leg around to straddle his hips, her knees sliding on the hot, polished stone.

Lena sighed, her hands idly stroking Farkas’s chest, the warmth of the spring seeping into her very bones and relaxing the tension she’d built up over the last few days. Ralof’s tale and the aftermath had lasted into the wee hours, Jarl Balgruuf having finally sent them home around two in the morning. And before that, her fight with Farkas and the revelation that she could fight Alduin with something other than force had been emotionally taxing as well.

“Septim for your thoughts?” Farkas scooped hot water into cupped palms and splashed it against her back, frowning at Lena’s momentary flinch. She definitely needed to relax.

“They’re not worth all that,” Lena said, feeling another stomach flutter at Farkas’s hands kneading her hips and thighs, his fingers brushing her buttocks. He kissed her neck and the tops of her breasts, and looked up at her, his eyes dark and warm. Lena’d thought that after a few months of marriage her ardor might have cooled a bit. Just a tiny bit. After all, she saw Farkas naked every day, slept with him – naked in their very own bed – every night. Loved him nearly that often.

But she never tired of seeing and touching his body, and feeling his hands roam over hers. Watching his eyes darken at the very thought of doing what they were about to do. In a hot spring, in the middle of nowhere. She grinned, and Farkas kissed her mouth, chuckling under his breath. He knew the exact moment her thoughts turned to more pleasant things.

“That’s right. Send it all away, then. At least for a while.” Farkas slid his hands from her hips to her torso to her breasts, lifting and molding around them, her nipples rolling between his fingers.

Lena grinned again and let her knees slide a little further. His erection brushed her stomach and she teased him then, sliding up and down in the silky water. Her lips brushed his cheek and she kissed a trail from his jawline to just below his ear. She whispered. “I’m sure you can help me with that.”

* * *

 

The rest of that day and the next, Farkas and Lena spent in similar fashion, allowing for small breaks to eat and sleep and explore a bit of the clearing. They discovered a waterfall just past the northern boundary and filled their waterskins and a few empty bottles with fresh, cold water.

Apples and bacon and cheese packed from home sustained their hunger, supplemented by a rare cache of jazbay they found growing on a patch of dark, crumbling rock near the spring. Morning and afternoon passed in a lazy, languid haze. 

“Hey.”

Lena stirred from a late-afternoon nap, a lazy smile plumping her cheeks. Farkas lay beside her under the tent, his face a mere shadow in the low light. She rolled over and brushed his cheek with the back of her hand. “Hey, yourself.”

“You said you didn’t want to miss the sunset…”

“I don’t,” she said, and curled into his side once more before stretching and sitting up. “Last night was…amazing. And not just you, this time.” Lena leaned into Farkas’s hand on her back, motioning to an itchy spot just below her left shoulder blade. “Those stars and aurora were…wow.”

“Yeah,” he said, lifting his head to kiss where he’d scratched. “I told you it was special.”

“Very special. And thank you again, for setting this up.”

“I figured I owed you after being such a dick yesterday.”

Lena snorted. “Send them away, remember? We wouldn’t be normal if we didn’t fight sometimes.” She rose to her knees and crawled to the door of the tent, holding her hand out for Farkas. “Come on, let’s watch the sunset from the pool.”

He crawled out behind her, and they both settled in the hot water, snuggled close together on a north facing ledge.

“I still can’t get over everything we can see here,” Lena said, motioning toward the mountains, pink in the sunset, and a smattering of stars already appearing over their heads. “I’m not used to it. And the aurora…with the cloud cover from Paarthurnax’s mountain, we never see them in Whiterun.”

Farkas fell silent for a few minutes, watching the sun paint the sky in its vivid pastel stripes. He took a deep breath. “What are your dreams, Lena?”

“What?”

“If you could have anything you wished, what would it be?”

“Well,” she said, planting a kiss on Farkas’s shoulder, “it’s hard to say. I mean, I want the Thalmor out of Skyrim, and I hope Alduin-“

“No,” Farkas broke in, shaking his head. “Not for the country, or the world. Just for you. I know reality’s different, but you can be selfish in your fantasies. Just…humor me.”

It was Lena’s turn to fall quiet, and she finally took a deep breath and sat up, looking into his eyes. “I want you, and I want peace.” She chuckled a little and shrugged. “I never used to want peace, you know? When we were kids, I wanted adventure and discovery and peril. All the stupid shit from the stories, and I had no fucking clue what I was talking about. Because,” she said, settling back down against his chest, “now that I’ve had that, and it fucking sucks, I just want it to stop. But I can’t imagine a world where that’s possible, at least for us. Can you?”

Farkas kissed the top of her head. “I can. You never know what might happen.”

“I’ve never seen stars so bright.” Lena pointed at a huge, twinkling star in the darkening sky. “What about you? What do you dream?”

“The same,” he said, stretching his legs out from the ledge. “I was almost afraid I’d be bored today, you know? Doing nothing but sleeping and eating and sex and eating and napping and sex and hiking and sex-“

“I get it, yeah,” Lena said, her laugh ringing in the quiet night air. “Me too. But...I wasn’t.”

“Yeah. I never thought I’d say this, but I want to put my sword down and never pick it up again. Except maybe to cut through vines or undergrowth. Move to the country, maybe somewhere close to Whiterun. Not worry about dragons flying overhead,” he said, nudging Lena to look up. The aurora were just beginning to start, their green and violet waves flickering across the sky. “Have grapevines and apple trees. Maybe bees.”

“Bees?”

“I like the sounds they make.” Farkas made a little buzzing sound between pressed lips. “And I’ve talked to people who’ve done it, the bees don’t tend to attack their keepers.”

“Well, I do like honey.”

“Lucky for me,” Farkas said, remembering his erstwhile wolfy scent. “Maybe we could live up in the mountains and grow coffee beans.”

“Or,” Lena said, getting into the swing. “Maybe have a vineyard and make the best wine in Skyrim.”

“Oh yeah, or we could join Vikas and Delphine and run the inn in Riverwood. Does Delphine still do that?”

Lena sighed. “Not really. I think she has people for that now. But yeah…it all sounds like such a good dream. Have a kid or two, let them play with their cousins, if Vikas ever... I could teach them magic-“

Farkas elbowed her ribs.

“Hey,” she said, “it’s better to learn young, and-“

“I know, I was teasing. And if we have do have a sweet little curly-haired, green-eyed witch like you, I’ll be happy to have you here to show her how everything works.”

“What if we have a sweet little blue-eyed boy who suddenly starts shooting lighting from his fingertips?”

Farkas’s lips quivered in a smile. “I suppose that’d be all right, too.”

“Will you teach our daughter to swing a sword like her papa?”

“You bet your ass I will,” Farkas said, reaching for a bottle of water and taking a sip. “No kid of mine’s going to need to depend on someone else for protection. After they grow up, I mean.”

“I wish they’d have had the chance to know their grandparents. And Aela and Skjor. And-“

“Hey,” Farkas said, crooning a little and shushing her, “let’s concentrate on happy dreams, ok?”

“Our own little fantasy world?”

“Yeah. And you never know what could happen. Remember before the mess with Ralof, you were convinced we had a good chance to win. You said you wanted it to be over because you thought we _would_ win. Let’s hold on to that, and think beyond it.”

“Sounds perfect,” Lena said, and planted a kiss on his hand. “Life beyond dragons and war.”

Lena snuggled into his side, and they watched the last of the sunset sink behind the mountains, and settled in to watch aurora play amid the stars. Farkas sighed and held her close, and closed his eyes. He concentrated harder than he’d ever done before, and pictured their little house and garden, clear in his mind’s eye. A little girl and boy playing on fences or in apple trees. Bees buzzing and gentle winds blowing Lena’s hair as she kissed him on their front porch, her smile warm and sweet.

A breeze whistled through the clearing, whipping the birches and blowing juniper-scented air their way. Farkas looked up. He’d never put much stock in campfire tales or stories of miracles and magic. But Vignar’s story stuck with him over the years, and Farkas was willing to try just about anything. _Life beyond dragons and war. Peace._ “Please,” he whispered, unshed tears burning his eyes and blurring the stars and aurora from view. He blinked them away and whispered again, a plea to whomever could hear and understand. “ _Please_.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is inspired by an Icelandic song, “Vor í Vaglaskógi.” The version I know is by Kaleo, and it’s freaking gorgeous. “The night is ours, spring in the wood of skies. We head to the heath with our tent, where the berries grow. Take me, dear friend to the mirth of yesterdays, where our creek runs free and the birch will blow. The lyrics “our dreams come true, who sleep in the wood of skies” inspired the folk tale Vignar told in the first scene. 
> 
> Now, I don’t speak Icelandic, so if any of you do, and the translation I used is wrong, please let me know!
> 
> Also, if any of you watch the IT Crowd and pronounced the names of the couple in the folktale “Yorg” and “Yen,” you win many points.


End file.
